I was here. I mean my body was at least, or whatever remained of this battered extra-terrestrial husk anyways; I mean, mentally I was somewhere else. Greener pastures, rolling hills, and smirking cows; I mean I was back home. I was here, and I was home. Home.

A four-lettered word that now, meant something entirely different. A four by four cell. The magic number four; Abbu’s four ‘o’clock news; Moray’s four gold bangles; the four little whiskers decorating my grandmother’s chin; Gul Bano’s four brocade saris, tucked away in some forgotten part of her dowry suitcase; the four little freckles imprinted on my wrist by…