Avni couldn’t go to work; her condition was contagious. She couldn’t read; her eyes would immediately tear up. She couldn’t watch TV; the insides of her eyelids would burn. Not knowing what else to do, she shut her eyes and forced herself to sleep.
Her grandfather was checking her eyes under a torchlight. His kind face was frowning at her.
“Avni, these eye drops won’t do, my love.”
“Why not, grandpa?”
Her grandfather took her right palm and sandwiched it between his own gnarly ones and sighed. “I’m more concerned about the eye drops than your infection. Never use cortisol. Never. Remember that,” he warned, smiling.
With that, her grandfather left the room.
Avni’s eyes flew open. All she saw was the dim afternoon light through the yellow curtains.
She sat up, got off the bed and dug her wardrobe for a change of clothes. She put on a simple t-shirt and jeans, and grabbed the tiny bottle of eye drops from her bedside table. She pulled her handbag off the bed and put the bottle into it.
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