was
on their minds.

During those 16 years, Mastan had never joked with his wife the
way he wanted to. Sometimes when Mastan was in a very good mood,
he wanted to jump with joy, to hit his head against the wall.
Or sometimes he would shake and become green with anger, but
he could never share his anger or his happiness with his wife.

Their balcony was adjacent to the neighbor's and just like all
the other apartments; their balconies were separated from each
other only with a board that substituted for a door. Therefore,
in the middle of the day or night, Mastan would see the neighbor's
child across from their balcony coming to get a drink of water
in the kitchen. Or see someone hanging clothes out to dry on
the balcony or rinsing them in the bathroom.

So,during all these 16 years, Mastan's anger and joy had accumulated
like a heavy stone inside him, and the anger and fury of 16 years
had accumulated like venom in his heart. That's why Mastan felt
alone exactly like he had when he was young and not married.
He would drink a glass of water when he got angry, and go to
the bathroom and bite his finger when he got happy; after all,
a grown man couldn't jump up and down like a ball in the midst
of 400 people. The entire building would have shaken with laughter
and, God knows, maybe, the building might have collapsed.

Lately, he neither had time nor needed to talk to his wife and
son about anything. His wife would share all her problems with
the women in the neighborhood, learn from