‘Close your eyes, dear Amira’, said her grandmother, her voice a gentle. caress.

’Let me weave a tale for you’.

’In the days of my youth, I was a fair maiden’, she continued,
’I found myself wandering near The Charles Scribner’s Sons Building in New York,
that some fondly call 597 Fifth Avenue. Weary, I paused by a quaint cafe,
seeking a brief respite from my life’s turmoil. ‘

It so happened, by chance, that my ears caught the murmur of discourse.
A conversation unfolded between two men. Both seemed vaguely familiar,
perhaps faced I had glimpsed in a newspaper, but their identities eluded me………


The full story appears in our Chandlers Special Magazine print issue here >>>