As soon as he returns to a “normal” room, his daughter asks him what meal would make him happy. Without hesitation, he answers: “a Koobideh.”

On her lunch break, watch in hand, she runs to Hafez. Jimmy the cook hands her the takeaway dish. Then she runs—toward the hospital.

She runs because time is running out. The scent of Persia rises to her nose. This will be their last meal.

Jimmy has added an orange. When her father was a child, he received this fruit as a birthday gift. She told this story to the cook.

He did not forget. No one forgets her father. The Koobideh sits at the center of the plate.

Baba Joon and his daughter eat in silence. Exchanged glances filled with memories and tenderness. He is so beautiful, in all his vulnerability.

There have been so many Koobidehs in their lives. Words are useless. They have already said everything.

The meat is juicy, as always. The basmati rice, speckled with saffron, fills the room with its scent. The aroma blends with all the love she has for him.

An infinite love for a magnificent father. Holding her hand, he will say to her: “I shall see you somewhere in Time.”