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      ‘I’ll think of you every time I look at it,’ she finally says.

      She puts the painting down and takes his coat.

      The windows are grimy and grey and the plaid coat she’s worn so often on their outings together is thrown on the floor in one corner of the room. Salah bends down, picks it up and looks at it for a moment before laying it neatly against the back of a chair. He looks up at Aneesa.

      ‘I shall miss you, my dear,’ he says quietly. ‘It won’t be the same without you here.’