Somewhere! (Hunaak!) by Ibraheem Abbas, Yasser Bahjatt Page A

surrounded with all of the tools I needed to virtually draw, paint or sculpt. In my mind, I had only one image that creeped its way to occupy my being: Malak’s gaze and smile as her head laid on my chest.
    I started waving my hand in the empty three dimensional space and I quickly and skillfully handled the drawing program’s tools, more accurately it was a “sculpting” program. I was sculpting all the details and weaved them into a three dimensional image full of life in all of its aspects: the painting was looking at me, it was breathing, I could see my reflection in her eyes, her lashes dancing with the breeze. I could not tell how much time I spent absorbed into my master piece, it was as if I was in a coma that I awakened from after I was done.
    Malak ’s voice brought me back, she was standing right behind me and was looking at my painting and she shed a silent tear. I turned towards her and her tear dropped from her eyelashes. She placed her head again on my chest. This had became her sanctuary as she collapsed between her gasps and gentle moans.
    “ I love you Husam! I swear to God I cannot live without you!” — Malak whispered.
    “ Malak! Come back with me to my world!” — I told her as I held her by her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
    “ Could you imagine that? I wouldn't hesitate for a moment if I could!” — she said.
    “ There must be a way! There surely is a way!” — I added.
    She raised her head as she wiped off her tears streaming down her face and pink nose with her arm. She tried to lighten up the mood as she pointed to the three dimensional painting that was floating behind me.
    “Hmm… was your visit with Mr. Leo fruitful? ” - She asked.
    “ Ah… this was my first experiment… ” - I added.
    “ Experiment? Don’t sell yourself short! She is more beautiful than I am!” — she said.
    “ I stand in front of you to say that there is nothing in the world that is more beautiful than you! Not even your own picture!” — I added.
    “ You also learned poetry and flirting?!” —Malak said with visible fondness.
    “ All the art, poetry and flirting of this world could not give justice to one look from your eyes!” — I said.
    My onslaught of flirtatious comments took her by surprise. I decided to ease on them and change the subject.
    “ Something has baffled me since I got here… how do I know the time? What time is it?” — I asked Malak.
    “ Why do you ask?” — Malak asked in response.
    “ What do you mean why do I ask? I want to know how long I have been away from my family? I want to know night from day! When do I wake up? When do I sleep? When do I pray?” — I said.
    “ You can sleep, wake up and pray whenever you feel like it!” — She responded.
    “ OK since I’ve been here, how long has time lapsed?” — I asked.
    “ Well, my estimation if we count the hours, it would be almost two or three days based on our world’s time.” — Malak responded.
    “ And based on my world’s time?” — I asked.
    “ Two minutes and fifty height seconds!” — she responded.
    “ Wait.. what? Is that possible? All of this in just two minutes? And how did you measure it so accurately?” — I asked.
    “ Can you stop with the questions already?” —she said.
    “ OK, but do you know what direction is Makkah?” — I asked.
    “ No… I have no idea how to find that from here!” — she said.
    “ Sorry for asking… but do you even pray?” — I said it with spontaneity but she got really upset. Who wouldn’ t —really— from such a private question?
    “ Sure! All has been taught to pray and praise!” — she answered me decisively.
    I was not offended by her verbal slap; I felt I deserved it! I made my oblation … and prayed a few Rakas towards what I thought would be the most probable direction, as Malak sat on the edge of the bed watching me:
    “ May God accept your prayer.” — she said.
    “ God bless you!” — I responded with the