Madawa

4

Maher sat in his room. He was on the floor, his back rested against the side of his bed. He lived in the tallest building in his area from his window wall, he could see the entire city. He dropped his head back, resting it on the bed. He aimlessly stared at the ceiling for so long his eyes began to water. He didn't know if it was because of the continuous staring or cigarette smoke or her—either way, it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He pried his laptop open and began typing an email.

Chanda, I hope you're doing better than the last time you read my email. Your gift has reached its destination and you can pick it up at Glendora Hotel. Just ask for Shahid at the reception desk. He's my best friend and that's his hotel. He's an absolute idiot and he will do anything in his power to get your identity (so that he can tell that to me) but don't give him any information because it's gonna be against our rules, and honestly it's gonna take a lot away from the level of comfort I share with you.

On a different note, I had a surprisingly good day today. I won a really important case. It was a difficult one. It's not like I hardly win cases haha. But this one was special because for the first time I didn't do it for money.  My father always made sure I knew the importance of money but he never let me explore the value of genuine happiness. I know I'm starting to sound like a Dhar Mann motivational video but I've come to realize money can't buy happiness. Anyway, I'm not going to bore you with this but just wanted to let you know it felt really good. roz har baat ki complain kart* hoon, socha aaj kuch acha share karloon.

I hope you like the gift.

Yours truly,
Unknown Badass.

He smiled at his slyly placed asterisk before switched over to his official email, and read and sent a few emails. About fifteen minutes later, he turned his laptop off, pressed his cigarette on the ashtray and went to bed.

His morning was the same boring routine; waking up at 6:30, breakfast, bath, floss, brush teeth—in that order. His breakfast was last night's takeout that he wasn't even sure was safe to eat but it didn't smell or look bad so he went with it. He left home at exactly 7:15. The drive to his workplace was usually filled with Sun, his car being roofless, music, and a plethora of thoughts. The day at work was good but he was having one of those day when all he could think of was dropping himself onto his bed, diving into sleep and staying in bed for a few days and that's exactly what he did when he got back home, minus the staying in bed for days part because with his lifestyle it was impossible to snatch an extra hour on bed, let alone days.

Thousands of miles away, Saman woke up soaking in her own sweat. Load shedding. It was a part of her routine but she hated everything about it—the icky feeling, the hot July sun trying to barge into her room, the general stillness of the room, so much so it felt dead. She got up and went to take a shower only to realize there was no water. She let out a huff in annoyance. She changed her clothes and went to the kitchen where she washed her face and brushed her teeth with bottled water. She began preparing breakfast for herself and her brother. She wheeled her brother's wheelchair to the living room where the siblings have their meals and placed the breakfast on the little coffee table in the room. She had just settled on the single-seater sofa when she heard her phone ring from the kitchen.

"Ugh, phone kitchen mein bhi bhool gayi," she said as she walked in the kitchen. It rang and vibrated to the tone on the counter. She frowned at the unknown number but still received the call.

"Hello, I'm Ahmed, calling from Beacon Law Firm. Is this Saman Mehmood?" a man spoke from the other end of the line.

Beacon Law Firm is one of the many companies she had interviewed in.