When her husband left, that stain wasn’t there.


    Yonca was sure of it.


    She knew because she hadn’t left the house in days.


    She had spent hours staring at the walls, crying.


    So when had the stain appeared?


    That, she couldn’t say.


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    She kept taking sedatives. Kept crying.


    And the stain kept growing.


    Through her tears, Yonca tried to scrub the wall.


    Nothing could erase it.


    Even though she had told her sister not to come, she showed up anyway.


    Yonca tried to show her the stain, but her sister wouldn’t listen.


    Instead, she dragged her to the bathroom.


    Then took her by the arm and pulled her outside.


    They sat in Yonca’s favorite café.


    They talked.


    They laughed.


    When she returned home, the stain had shrunk.