ALANA
I was preoccupied with breakfast when the bell rang. Groaning, because I was still half-asleep, I dragged my feet into the fuzzy slippers, wore a slate-grey shrug, tucking my long hair beneath it and hastily donned on a hijab. I was sure the back if my head looked straight as an arrow rather than the elegant way I wore a bun beneath.
There was no time for that because whoever this was—probably the neighbour auntie who had two cats—had absolutely no patience. They seemed to be sitting on the bell.
"Sabırlı ol!" I shouted—have patience.
Throwing open the door, I squeaked because whatever I had suspected, this was surely not it. He was no woman. And he didn't look very happy.
