Saturday, October 6, 2012

When Mr. Prizida Came to Dine


"Mr. Pirzada handed me his coat, for it was my job to hang it on the rack at the bottom of the stairs. It was made of finely checkered gray-and-blue wool, with a striped lining and horn buttons, and carried in its weave the faint smell of limes. There were no recognizable tags inside, only a hand- stitched label with the phrase “Z. Sayeed, Suitors” embroidered on it in cursive with glossy black thread. On certain days a birch or maple leaf was tucked into a pocket. He unlaced his shoes and lined them against the baseboard; a golden paste clung to the toes and heels, the result of walking through our damp, unraked lawn. "

1 comment:

  1. I find this part of the story pretty interesting due to the extreme details that the narrator could talk about Mr. Pirzada's shoes and coat. From what texture and pattern to even the scent. The narrator probably payed attention to these details since he was the only one doing this job every time.

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