The young man didn’t say a word when I greeted him with the customary salaam. Nothing as I reached across for the warm loaf of barbari bread that he had just taken out of the tanoor and thanked him for his hard work. Complete silence as I handed him my crumpled tomans and asked for change. How rude, I thought, as I slowly turned my back ready to bring the warm and savory loaf to my house. “Miss.” I turned around. “I’m sorry, but I have a stutter. Thank you for coming.” I smiled and walked away, grasping ever more tightly to the bread that warmed my heart.