Were All Stars to Disappear

The agency’s email said: Thirty-one, married, reliable.

She arrived at eight in the morning, removed her black chador with a graceful motion, revealing a long dress and a stylish headscarf. Then she began her work.

“Feel free and comfortable in this house,” I said, meaning she could take off the headscarf too.

“I am comfortable like this, sir,” she murmured, with a bemused smile.

People on couch
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