It was snowing. I was driving a small car to a place I didn’t know how to get to. I’d forgotten my luggage and my feet were cold. My breath fogged the windshield. There were chunks of ice in the road, hazards that required radical swerving to avoid. Glimpses of oncoming traffic. A break in the cloud off to the right revealed that I was on a high, high, narrow bridge. I was lost. Lost and alone and cold and blind and unprepared.
Then I arrived.
My hostess greeted me warmly. I stood soggy in my stocking feet just inside the doorway and complained bitterly of my sorry state. Through the flow of my distress, she reached a hand to touch my arm, seeing in my saga what I myself had missed. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “God sent you a Djinn!”