THE PINK DRESS IN HER WARDROBE
The pink dress remained in her wardrobe long after she stopped wearing it. It hung between a black dress she wore to funerals and a blue one she once wore to her best friend's graduation. She had bought it on an ordinary Tuesday. There had been nothing remarkable about that day. The sun was too hot. The market was crowded. Someone had overcharged her for tomatoes. A child was crying beside a woman selling second-hand clothes. She had argued with the tailor over a missing button and laughed with her sister on the way home. It was just an ordinary Tuesday. She did not know then that ordinary days were treasures. She wore the pink dress more than thrice. Once to church, once to the lake and once to a wedding. Once to a family gathering where she ate too much rice and laughed until her stomach hurt. Then she stopped wearing it. Not because she stopped liking pink. Because one morning, while dressing, her fingers found something that wasn't supposed to be there. She stood in front o...