Cruel emotion

st

ro

t t

Abdul

rom the bottom of hell to the cold reality of the earth. Hanan was a neighbor's daughter, born in the eighties, while I was born in the sevent

watching with the utmost confidence that she, in turn, is watching from behind my window. Hanan was a strange and unique beaut

that mediates our quiet neighborhood in Nasr City. She looked at me the same as s

u, it was

the duty.. Do yo

f co

about my ph

ed by a pen inserted between its wheeled wires, and writes her phone number for home and mobil

ll

f co

right white laundry, especially my underwear that my mother presents on the ropes to show off her skill when she gave birth to a boy after three girls

and it was time to leave. She looked at the papers bearing her

ght fa

on't

nowing that and

from the tram to the university or her fallen existence from my mind anyway.

little faces change to their counterparts, the faces gradual from enthusiasm and loudness, to s

little faces change to their counterparts, the faces gradual from enthusiasm and loudness, to s

the paper and put it in my pocket, I wonder when I return from my work to my mother and eat her delicious food and my mind is occupied only

n my mother gives me another piece of m

s usual, and I also did not care, or did I care, I pulled my mobile phone from the pocket of my sweet pants and searched for the paper until I found it, tha

e night like lovers and I was not one of them, or continue putting the number

how ar

ink I'm

re are

e unive

ntil

ntil

about

me to

just had

's have dinn

do you

y din

denied and I put on my clothes. My daily routine reminds me not to repeat it until

ary beauty is waiting for me for a strange name, as

. It seemed arrogant of her. I don't understand English very well, because I used to miss English c