Bujrum

She pulled out a chair. He sat. She poured coffee. Bujrum again as she set the cup down. Help yourself.

Elma heard footsteps on the gravel path. She knew the rhythm: hurried, yet trying to be polite. Bujrum

Before a knock could land, Elma threw open the heavy oak door. Standing there was her neighbor, Marko, clutching a basket of fresh, dusty plums. She pulled out a chair

She didn't mean just walk through the door. She meant: you are welcome here, you are safe here, my home is yours. clutching a basket of fresh