It’s the morning after removing my earrings and I’m spending it lying around.

See my earrings, the lonely double helix studs, now without their crowning crescent moons. Ah, the most noticeable thing about this picture, the throbbing emptiness.

Despite the lack of my signature red lipstick (or any makeup really other than the obligatory eyeliner) and my pillow-smushed eyebrows, I have made emotional peace with my healing upper cartilage.

“But Nahida,” you ask. “What glorious brush could have ensnarled your earring and your heart?”

I am Zulekha. Behold:

Did you slice yourself, dear reader?

Better on a hairbrush than a man. I shall tell this smartly to Zulekha in paradise when she laughs hysterically at me.