Today is my wife’s birthday, but I am not celebrating. I am lying on a bed, in my childhood room, in my parent’s house having a panic attack. My palms are sweating, my neck is tightening, my pulse is racing, I want to run, I want to hide.
Trust me to pick the end of Ramadan to fly to Bodrum. Of course half the population was trying to travel across the country to see relatives and after 30 days of fasting there were some frayed tempers at the airport, including mine.