The apartment was quiet when I returned from work. There was a pot on the stove, and I sniffed something sweet and spicy.
“Benish?” I called.
I was rewarded with a grunt from the direction of the dining room.
I hung up my coat and went to the dining room. Benish was sprawled on the couch, eating pretzels and reading the paper. I inhaled. “Where’s Mama?”
“Sleeping.”
I glanced at my watch. “Why is she sleeping now? It’s late, she won’t be able to sleep at night.”
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