Excerpt from "The Flood"

 

I test you by evil and by good as a trial. To Me you must return.
-Qur'an, "Soorah al-Ambiyaa," Verse 35

By morning news had spread. At Café Mosa, men had gathered around the counter, talking about the flood. How long would it last? Was it dangerous? In the lower part of town, swells rose to first-story windows. The torrent of water cut through Tinihir like a river, brown with mud and carrying items the rain had beaten loose. Branches from olive trees, blankets, lanterns, wicker baskets. There was not much else.

Atif and Hassan sat under the awning of the café at their usual table. The two had been childhood friends, roaming the old kasbah together-a forbidden pastime-playing in the oldest part of town where the mud houses had dried and collapsed. It was in the old kasbah that Hassan had fallen from a second story window and broken his shoulder. His bones had healed into deformity. At his chest, his hand curled viciously downward, and his right elbow stuck to his side so he limped when he walked, constantly off-balance.

Hassan shook a cigarette out of its package and leaned over the plastic table for Atif to light. The café was small and clean, with simple mosaic tiles. A white counter ran the length of the café and a radio often played at the far end, though today the music was drowned out by the crowd. Wide double doors opened to the patio, where Atif and Hassan had developed the habit of meeting. Nearly all their important conversations had occurred at this table, the both of them looking out into the street at the passing cars. They told each other everything, mostly of sins, mostly Hassan confessing them: his first taste of alcohol, breaking fasts, women. Atif, who had attended school, relayed mathematics and science lessons, spoke sometimes of the mosque, knowing Hassan would turn his head and scoff.

continued...

__The Flood____