The bus was crowded the way it always was. Rebecca stood near the window and watched the city move past her: bread sellers pushing their carts, schoolchildren walking in pairs with bags bouncing on their backs, yellow taxis honking at nothing in particular, a woman by the roadside selling tomatoes from a wide metal tray balanced on her head, completely still and unbothered by the noise around her.
Rebecca watched it all and felt the quiet, ordinary comfort of a morning that seemed like any other morning.
She got off at her stop, walked down 2 streets, and turned onto the wide, calm road lined with tall palm trees. She had been here before, once or twice to visit Grace, and she always felt the same thing when she turned onto the street: a slight shift, like stepping into a different part of the city. Quieter. Greener. The houses behind their high walls and iron gates looked permanent and unhurried, as if they had always been there and always would be.
She found the gate and pressed the bell. It opened almost immediately.
Grace was standing there in her work uniform, her face bright. “You came,” she said, pulling Rebecca into a quick, warm hug.