•Episode Four: The Apple•
So the pain in my back started killing me, and I finally decided to see a doctor. Dr. Tan, a kind middle-aged Burmese guy, gently shoves his tiny finger up there, searching for a missing piece and OUCH He finds one! He told me if I had lingered more, it might have made a hole out of my butt; but who needs two assholes, right? Anyway, it’s only a day after Nowruz, and the pain is almost gone. Sitting in the BART, heading work, probably listening to Serge Gainsbourg’s voice, I suddenly find out that everybody in front of me is looking at something; I could only see their faces, those scared expressions, and muted mouths. I couldn’t hear anything. I’d rather not see anything though; these things happen here often.
I text Patricia, telling about my surgery and the holiday in which we had a month of break back in Tehran. It took her 4 hours, 37 minutes and 20 seconds to answer. She wants to see me! So here I stand, two stories lower than the street, under this building next to Wells Fargo Museum on Montgomery, waiting for her to come. There she comes running down the escalator with a shiny red apple in her hands. She doesn’t even let me talk! She starts with that beautiful smile on her lips: “Happy Nowruz! This is the only Sïn (سین) that I could find!” She hands me the apple and runs off..! I can’t feel my legs; I’m not even sure if I have a beating heart...WOW!
The next day she texts me asking if I’d taken the apple already and I say: “well, yeah...” and then I receive this terrifying message: “That was your first sin. Unfortunately, you have entered my world🖤”