If I’d known it would be the last ever gift I would give my husband, I’d have chosen something better. It was March 2020, and on the day of his birthday, I was in Istanbul for a work trip, giving a talk at a conference and exploring the city. It was my last excursion before the pandemic lockdown, and looking back now, it seems like another world, where people still hugged each other freely and shared bites of food from each other’s plates.

He never had enough pens for work (he was an academic), so I bought him one from a little independent stationery shop. I can’t pretend it was an imaginative choice, let alone a lavish one. Although the pen was gilt-edged and shiny, it was a rollerball.

The men in the shop seemed surprised that I didn’t haggle, but I felt that the price was proof of

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