Hajj Salem set five big plates on the wide wooden table.
Khaled, Said, Fahd, and Nora poured in with muddy shoes and bright cheeks.
The kitchen filled with sizzling bread, clinking spoons, and stamping feet on the warm tiles.
Hajj Salem reached for his favorite cup. No one brought it. He was not there.
Five chairs faced the empty room. The spoon stayed still on the sideboard.
Thursday morning. The family carried in the big pot and the basket of bread.
Rain hammered the roof. Fahd slipped in a puddle at the door.
They set the pot down with a loud clang and waited, listening to the rain.
Nora lit a small yellow candle and placed it in front of the empty chair.
The flame shivered and jumped, as if someone walked through the doorway.
His voice hummed in their heads as they passed the bread and ladled the soup.
The five of them ate and talked and laughed until the last crumb was gone.