حال الدنيا

Lifting his left shoulder, he tilted his head to the side clutching the mobile in between his ear and the rest of his body. In his right hand he held the glow-radiating lighter of the car, with a piece of his mother's finest bukhoor chips in his left. "Eeh kany mesafat il 6ereej, wain il shabab?", he asked the bukhor chip, talking into the phone and staring at it burn. He pushed his shoulder forward slipping the phone down to his thigh.

He placed the lighter upside down near the gear, and looked into his mirror to find the ghetra tilted to the left. He backed the car up, turned the wheel in the other direction and propelled forward. Looking to his side, he saw a young woman in a white dress, leaning to his side and reaching for his arm. He looked into the mirror again, pushed the ghetra to the side, and looked to the passenger's side side mirror to switch lanes. The seat was not occupied.

He soared down the highway and made himself comfortable leaning backwards. This was going to be one very very long ten minutes. He reached for his mobile on his pearl white dishdasha and placed it near the ashtray. He looked to his side again to check if the girl in the pearly white dress was seated next to him again. She was, only this time she was wearing beige. He reached for her hands. At that exact same moment, a speeding SUV overtook him and he flew his right hand to grab the wheel. There was really no reason for the instant panic. He was just lost in his thoughts. He reached again to his right, but touched only air. He looked to his side, and saw no one.

His phone rang. Picking it up, he saw both the name and a photo of one of his friends. "Ya taa3ebny," he answered, "ee shway o ousal, betdeshon yimee3?" He changed lanes again, and he could almost swear the girl was sitting next to him. Wearing a grey skirt. That's all he saw, not the shirt not the-anything. The grey skirt only. His friend's recurring "Aloo.. tesma3ni?" reminded him that he was on the phone. "Eeh yala, ne6rouny 3ayal."

The car slowed down to a halt at a traffic light. He looked to his left at the group of girls in the Land Cruiser. He looked to his right, passenger seat empty, and looked at the Z71 truck with two guys overlooking him; and looking at the girls in the Land Cruiser. He looked ahead and waited for the light.

Sensing an object in the corner of his eye, he looked down to his phone near the ashtray, and saw her long legs covered with a long, black skirt. He looked up and stared at the familiar face. Straight into the transparent and non-existent eyes. He saw the truck leap forward, so he moved his car too since obviously the light was green. The Z71 overtook his lane and slowed down for the girls in the Land Cruiser to come and parallely escort them. He looked down to his hand and saw her hand over his. He looked up at the truck's license plate. The girl's hand was gone. So were her legs, so was her skirt.

He took the exit and entered the area he was supposed to meet his friends in. Two minutes later he saw the crowd of cars opposite the jam3iya in the parking lot. More than ten, less than twenty guys were all clad in white deshadeesh, white ightarr and white sandals. They motioned for him, apparently saving him a parking spot next to them.

He proceeded to where his friends were standing, and fitted his car in between the two white lines. He stared at the building next to the jam3iya. He returned the lighter into the socket near the ashtray and picked up his phone. Making his way out of the car, he was met with one of his friends smiling sympathetically. He smiled back. After the greetings, his smiley-friend pushed him slowly away. "Zain yeet," the friend said, "kent shaak bel saalfa ma hagaitek tiyee."
He looked over his shoulder to the group of guys finishing up their smokes, "nisseeb", he told his friend. "Imsh nasbeg'hom."

As the group made their way across the street, he looked back at his car.
He thought he saw a girl in white waving, with a grin on her face.