Thief

The Fair

Falisha’s POV

I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

Wait till father hears about it.

I was out here enjoying some county fair with a stranger. I know this was stupid and totally not me but when he asked, I couldn’t say no. Does that make any sense? What was I even thinking, for all I know he could be some serial killer or rapist.

But if he turned out to any of those things I would fight him. I once took a tike van do class when I was little, I didn’t go for more than a week but I know some tricks. I was strong enough. Wasn’t I?

Who was I kidding? I was probably the most easiest target.

He didn’t look like a rapist though. In my opinion he looked pretty decent and he was actually fun. He listened to whatever I had to say with interest. No man I had ever known did that. He was pretty interesting himself.

We visited the stalls and ate almost everything they were offering. There were different kind of games and we tried all of them. Ryan was very good at throwing balls and they fell exactly in the glass. And his ability to throw rings was pretty good as well; they went directly over the bottles.

He won me a lot of chocolates; that we ate together and stuffed toys; that I didn’t even have space to hold. So I gave all the toys to some kids but saved myself one Winnie the Pooh. It was the cutest.

I didn’t usually open up with people real quick but he was very easy to talk to, I told him about my Father and Harris, and my relationship with Mustafa. I secretly skipped the part where I and Mustafa might end up together and I didn’t even feel guilty about it. He talked to me about his visits to different part of the world. It turned out he had seen almost half of the world and was knowledgeable about a lot of things.

He had even visited Pakistan. He said it was a beautiful and very resourceful country; it just needed a proper system. I had never been to Pakistan myself, I always wanted to though, but my father never had time. So I asked him to tell me more about my country and he did. I was fascinated. He told me about the northern areas of Pakistan, and how they were one of the most beautiful places mountain ranges he had seen and how the people were really welcoming. He described the valleys of naraan, kaghan and sawat beautifully. He said if you look at Pakistan as you look at America than Karachi would be New York, Islamabad would be Washington, Quetta would be Chicago and Peshawar would be. He said he loved Pakistani food particularly Biryani. He said he would choose it over Pizza anytime. It was something I know about. I could even cook some of the Pakistani dishes. Mustafa’s mother taught me how to. I could even cook Biryani.

I was impressed and we sort of clicked after that. I loved how he talk about my country, he didn’t speak like it was some country from the third world like some people would but he actually talked about it, described it and had seen it with much broader view. I respected him for that.

As the evening fell, I found myself admiring him more and more. My doubts about him being a murderer and rapist seemed absurd now. He was really a gentleman.

We were strolling through stall to stall, walking leisurely like two people who had no worry of the world and had nowhere to be except here until my eyes landed on a board, ‘Madam Rosy, The Fortuneteller” I had never been to a fortuneteller before. It was among the things that weren’t allowed. I stopped in front of the stall and looked at Ryan excitedly, "Fortune Teller!”

He raised his eyebrows questionably.

“Let’s go to the Fortuneteller” I said.

He shook his head “And waste some precious time.”