“Chasing the Echoes of Home: A Journey Through Memory and Migration”
While Ginnie went in search of a candle, I wrapped my fingers around the Lebanese lira in my pocket and then released them, trying to get myself to relax. The large living room window let in a trickle of moonlight. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could discern the forms of the couch and coffee table, the lamps and ottoman.
On Hamra Street below, a car’s high beams lit up the jeans on the slender mannequin in Groovy’s storefront window. If the power hadn’t gone out, I’d be trying them on in the shop’s tiny changing room while Ginnie waited for me on the other side of the curtain next to the funky gilded mirror. Now I’d have to wait until morning and hope the electricity would be back on, or that the shop owner would open up regardless.
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