I’ve always loathed this street with its huge speed bumps every 50m! Even the blossoms of the bushy tall trees hugging the whole street tight—at least in an April like now with the intoxicating scent of locusts creating a dreamy atmosphere— have never tempted me to take a turn into this street and feast my eyes on this gorgeous scene. But today, Elena, my new girlfriend, is having a book review meeting at a café at the end of this street.

One of the speed bumps is so huge that you have to stop completely to avoid damaging your car’s undercarriage. The parking lot gate of the left-side apartment is open. Not trying to be nosy, I catch sight of a woman helping her kids get into the car and suddenly…

… I come across her.

That’s her with the same face, as though undergoing a clumsy make-up to look older. She’s frowning and looks frustrated. The deep line between her eyebrows and her eye wrinkles are unbecoming to her beautiful face. Three kids?

The last image of her in my mind belonging to twenty years ago has to be stretched to width to slightly resemble her figure. She notices my stare and turns around. Her frown grows deeper and she squints. She gives a look of rebuke to the nosy driver gazing at her home privacy.

But she recognizes me abruptly. A little boy trying to fit his tricycle in the trunk of the car turns to her, follows her look, and stares at me. Looking straight at me, he asks with his sharp voice,

• “Who’s that, mom?”

We both come to ourselves as if waking from a midday nap. I push the gas pedal as hard as I can, hearing her voice turning from a deep sigh into a half-shout,

• “Nobody… I told you that you can’t bring that with you!”

Persian version