...a deathly serenade...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAA
Contradictions. In the morning though she
seemed as if she had had enough of talking. She
ignored my question with an inaudible mumble,
and then walked to the shower, sipping the rest
of a bottle of beer as she walked in. I soon
followed her into the shower to just see how she
is. I stood and watched the water caressing her
skin, her curvaceous buttocks, her crevices for
what seemed a moment, but it may have been
minutes, before she turned and noticed me
standing at the doorway. She asked if I wanted
fellatio, just as the noise for morning prayers
sounded. I said I was fine. As she was leaving I
said goodbye, and I saw a tear in her eye, so I
then tried to stop her but before I could, she was
gone in a hurry after leaving me with the
affirmation that I didn’t truly care. And the
thought that life, regardless of the choice to live
it or not, required essential elements: such as
focus, attention and care. And I was becoming
more aware of this truth. With no answer on the
phone, later on in the morning I thought I would
look for her, but I ended up changing my mind.
After she had left I kept thinking of, firstly those
eggs (the experience), and then her brother: I
retold the story of him losing his arm to myself,
and the part which confused me most was the
relationship between Ahmed and a man she only
referred to as G. Apparently, G had befriended
Ahmed at an awkward time in life—he was
around seventeen at the time and their Father
had just died in a very dubious fashion I couldn’t
quite fully gather: My mom wouldn’t cook meat
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