In the chap­ter titled “Sun­day,” Cyrus Shams finds him­self grap­pling with his emo­tions and mem­o­ries as he spends his third day in Brook­lyn. He attempts to con­nect with his uncle Arash after a sig­nif­i­cant event—the funer­al of his father. The chap­ter begins with Cyrus mak­ing a hes­i­tant call to Zee, reflect­ing his uncer­tain feel­ings of remorse. Instead of leav­ing a mes­sage, he opts to rem­i­nisce about the sparse atten­dees at his father’s bur­ial, which includ­ed Ali’s boss, his Eng­lish teacher Mr. Orenn, his girl­friend Shireen, and friends, all shar­ing a somber pres­ence.

Cyrus reflects on his uncle’s furi­ous response when he final­ly informed him about his father’s pass­ing, feel­ing the gap that dis­tance has cre­at­ed. Seek­ing solace, he opens the hotel win­dow to let the cold air in, momen­tar­i­ly staving off his chaot­ic thoughts, and reach­es out to Arash on What­sApp. Their con­ver­sa­tion reveals a mix of famil­ial warmth and the com­plex­i­ties of their rela­tion­ship. Arash greets him with affec­tion, despite the dis­tance and years apart, demon­strat­ing his car­ing nature through light-heart­ed ban­ter about learn­ing French from his assis­tant.

The dia­logue unfolds with Arash shar­ing his mus­ings on life and death, illus­trat­ing a remark­able under­stand­ing of exis­tence through anec­do­tal sto­ries, such as his love for music and the impact of Mozart’s “Mis­erere.” This con­ver­sa­tion evokes a sense of nos­tal­gia for Cyrus as he grap­ples with his iden­ti­ty in con­trast to his uncle’s pro­found expe­ri­ences. Arash’s sto­ries touch on heav­ier top­ics, like the reper­cus­sions of their pasts and the absur­di­ty of life’s fleet­ing nature.

As their con­ver­sa­tion pro­gress­es, Cyrus reveals a paint­ing that remind­ed him of Arash, strad­dling mem­o­ries of fam­i­ly and loss. He tries to bridge their emo­tion­al dis­tance through sto­ry­telling, but hears Arash empha­size the weight of shared his­to­ry, under­scor­ing that many bear sim­i­lar sto­ries. In the end, the chap­ter encap­su­lates Cyrus’s blend of anx­i­ety, long­ing, and the com­fort of con­nec­tion, as he con­tem­plates his uncle’s words, ready­ing him­self to absorb the sig­nif­i­cance of the music that links them across cul­tures and expe­ri­ences.

Cyrus Shams sits at an out­door café named Day­light in Brook­lyn, brac­ing against the cold as he waits for his friend Zee Novak. His mind is pre­oc­cu­pied with thoughts from a con­ver­sa­tion with Orkideh, a mys­te­ri­ous fig­ure who had ref­er­enced a plane crash relat­ed to his mother—something he nev­er men­tioned to her. He exchanges texts with his spon­sor, Gabe, who con­firms Cyrus is still sober. Reflect­ing on grief, Cyrus grap­ples with his unre­solved emo­tions regard­ing his moth­er’s death, not­ing that although he feels a con­nec­tion to his father, his moth­er’s absence remains abstract.

Cyrus then scrolls through the news, encoun­ter­ing an arti­cle fea­tur­ing “Pres­i­dent Invec­tive,” a name he and Zee use dis­mis­sive­ly for the pres­i­dent, sym­bol­iz­ing their dis­dain for his lead­er­ship style. This prompts Cyrus to con­sid­er how West­ern lead­ers aspire to infal­li­bil­i­ty, con­trast­ing them with his­tor­i­cal fig­ures who showed vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty, such as Jesus and Muham­mad. Cyrus express­es frus­tra­tion over the lack of emo­tion­al­ly ground­ed lead­er­ship in the mod­ern world, yearn­ing for a leader who acknowl­edges the com­plex­i­ty of human expe­ri­ence.

While wait­ing, Cyrus reflects on his fam­i­ly, recall­ing his moth­er’s vora­cious curios­i­ty and his father’s ret­i­cence about knowl­edge. He admires his moth­er’s habit of seek­ing answers, which instilled in him a com­fort with uncer­tain­ty. This con­tem­pla­tion leads him to observe soci­etal pain—people’s belief that hap­pi­ness is their nat­ur­al state, believ­ing exter­nal forces cause their dis­con­tent.

Zee final­ly arrives, dressed casu­al­ly as he shows off records he’s col­lect­ed. Their con­ver­sa­tion turns seri­ous as Cyrus recounts his ear­li­er talk with Orkideh, par­tic­u­lar­ly her unex­pect­ed men­tion of the flight asso­ci­at­ed with his mother’s death. Zee ques­tions whether Orkideh might know Cyrus’s father from Iran, but Cyrus thinks it’s unlike­ly. They dis­cuss Orkide­h’s artis­tic career, with Cyrus search­ing her name online. He finds scant infor­ma­tion but dis­cov­ers a pow­er­ful image from one of her works depict­ing a bat­tle­field with a rid­er resem­bling his uncle Arash, who once fought in the Iran-Iraq War. This rev­e­la­tion strikes Cyrus deeply, inter­twin­ing his fam­i­ly’s his­to­ry with Orkide­h’s art, ampli­fy­ing his emo­tion­al tur­moil .

In the chap­ter titled “Sun­day,” the nar­ra­tive unfolds in Brook­lyn, where Cyrus Shams and Zee Novak enjoy a laid-back evening filled with piz­za and TV. The atmos­phere is casu­al, with Zee reflect­ing on the para­dox of doing noth­ing in a city full of oppor­tu­ni­ties, cit­ing “oppor­tu­ni­ty cost” in a humor­ous debate over whether fruit belongs on piz­za. Their evening segues into a con­ver­sa­tion about the chang­ing land­scape of com­e­dy and media, with Cyrus assert­ing that many beloved shows, like *The Office*, would strug­gle to be made today due to evolv­ing stan­dards of accept­abil­i­ty. This dis­course leads to rec­ol­lec­tions about past films and lit­er­a­ture that now bear prob­lem­at­ic elements—like John Hugh­es’ works or *The Bell Jar*—triggering a blend of nos­tal­gia and dis­com­fort.

Post-show­er, Cyrus and Zee share a pro­found exchange about Cyrus’s inten­tions for the next day at the muse­um, where he plans to seek out Orkideh for answers con­nect­ed to his fam­i­ly. Despite their cama­raderie, con­flict­ing emo­tions sur­face as Zee warns Cyrus about the poten­tial for emo­tion­al upheaval, empha­siz­ing the weight of the past and imply­ing Cyrus’s ten­den­cy to view his life through a lens of despair and iso­la­tion.

Their dia­logue becomes more intense as Zee con­fronts Cyrus, chal­leng­ing his dis­mis­sive view of his own life and strug­gles. Zee express­es frus­tra­tion over Cyrus’s ten­den­cy to spi­ral into self-pity, sug­gest­ing that Cyrus over­looks the impact he has on those around him. The con­ver­sa­tion deep­ens, reveal­ing vul­ner­a­ble feel­ings that Cyrus has tried to shield, as Zee pas­sion­ate­ly artic­u­lates how inter­twined their lives have become.

How­ev­er, Cyrus’s insis­tence on desir­ing to make a sig­nif­i­cant impact clash­es with Zee’s emo­tion­al needs. The dis­cus­sion crescen­dos into a con­fronta­tion, reveal­ing under­ly­ing ten­sions in their friend­ship. As Cyrus real­izes the depth of the strain between them, Zee departs, sym­bol­iz­ing a rup­ture that high­lights their emo­tion­al dis­con­nect. The chap­ter encap­su­lates a moment of both inti­ma­cy and con­flict, reflect­ing the com­plex­i­ties of their rela­tion­ship against the back­drop of a seem­ing­ly mun­dane evening.

In the chap­ter titled “Sun­day,” Cyrus Shams finds him­self in Brook­lyn on the third day of his vis­it. He aims to arrive at the muse­um before it opens to engage Orkideh, an artist bat­tling can­cer, in a mean­ing­ful con­ver­sa­tion. On his way, he buys two cof­fees, attempt­ing to offer one to Orkideh as a ges­ture of thought­ful­ness. This moment reminds him of the term “son­der,” the real­iza­tion that every­one has com­plex lives, stir­ring mixed feel­ings about his self-absorp­tion when per­form­ing this small act of kind­ness.

Arriv­ing at the muse­um, Cyrus real­izes he can­not car­ry the cof­fee inside due to strict reg­u­la­tions. Anx­ious about wast­ing the drink, he briefly con­sid­ers giv­ing it to a home­less per­son out­side but ulti­mate­ly decides to toss it. This inci­dent evokes mem­o­ries from his child­hood, where waste­ful­ness was heav­i­ly rep­ri­mand­ed by his father. He reflects on how this upbring­ing influ­ences his adult behav­ior, often lead­ing him to con­sume left­overs rather than waste them.

Upon enter­ing the gallery, Cyrus is struck by the sight of Orkideh, who sits alone, sur­round­ed by artis­tic and unset­tling imagery, includ­ing an oxy­gen tank that adds a somber lay­er to the expe­ri­ence. Their con­ver­sa­tion begins with a warm greet­ing, but Cyrus quick­ly feels regret for his ini­tial ques­tion regard­ing her health. Orkideh’s cheer­ful accep­tance of her con­di­tion sparks a deep­er dis­cus­sion about life, art, and the nature of exis­tence.

She express­es pride in her iden­ti­ty as an artist, empha­siz­ing the per­ma­nence of art in con­trast to fleet­ing rela­tion­ships. Cyrus grap­ples with the impli­ca­tions of mar­tyr­dom and fam­i­ly con­nec­tions, shar­ing per­son­al anec­dotes about his par­ents and the impact of their deaths. Orkideh shares her own life expe­ri­ences, chal­leng­ing Cyrus to con­sid­er the rel­a­tiv­i­ty of grief and its expec­ta­tions.

As their dia­logue pro­gress­es, Cyrus feels lib­er­at­ed to share his past strug­gles with loss and grief, mak­ing the exchange both vul­ner­a­ble and cathar­tic. Orkideh’s reac­tions show she admires his open­ness. She urges him to embrace the nuances of life rather than seek­ing for­mu­la­ic res­o­lu­tions, sug­gest­ing that gen­uine clo­sure often arrives unex­pect­ed­ly.

By the end of their meet­ing, Cyrus feels a deep sense of con­nec­tion and grat­i­tude for Orkide­h’s insights. He leaves the muse­um pre­oc­cu­pied with both the conversation’s depth and unre­solved ques­tions about his writ­ing and per­son­al expe­ri­ences, hint­ing at a jour­ney of intro­spec­tion that lies ahead .

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