A Fling Of Events {Jason X Salim}

E P I L O G U E

"Good morning, Salim!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Lovette!" I replied, picking three oranges up from the stall, as I began juggling them with ease.
The kindly old woman smiled at me, with no doubts or concerns entering her mind.

I caught the oranges like 1, 2, 3, and placed them on the counter. I picked many fruit and vegetables, only selecting the ones that I thought gleamed with the nicest shine, and radiated the brightest of colors, then loaded my pick onto the bench in front of her.

I handed the women all the cash I had, as I always knew exactly what I wanted, and would bring exactly that amount of money, so that I would not over-spend.

The woman, being well acquainted with me by now, gave a slight chuckle, as she examined my produce.

"Always the exact same. I fear the day you buy something different, is the day I'll drop dead from shock." Mrs. Lovette joked, as she rang up my order. She placed the produce into a brown paper bag, and handed it to me.

I chuckled heartily, in response, "Have a lovely day!" I told her, as I headed back out of town on foot, in the direction of my flat.

After the traumatic drama that occurred due to Jason's deceased husband, Andrew; I had felt it was wrong to go back to, Iraq.

So much had happened here in the US, and Nick was suffering with the worst case of PTSD and anxiety due to the shooting that day.
Getting shot is one thing... Seeing your best friend get shot, is another...

And then I, myself, didn't want to be alone. Zain was going to London for University, and most of my military friends had died in the war. It would have been too lonely to go back, so I stayed in the US.

I made it to the apartment block, and pressed the buzzer. Hadid, the owner of the building, looked out the window, flicked me a wave, and the main door buzzed open.

I entered the building, hugging my bag of fresh produce, "Morning, Hadid!" I greeted, with a small smile.

The man looked at me with what may have been considered annoyance, or irritation. "Ah, Mr. Othman, please leave me be!" he replied, going back to his book.

Mr. Hadid was Egyptian, and all too snobby and fussed in his old age. He didn't like being talked too, and he certainly didn't like his residents paying him any kindness when they made their way to their rooms.

He was a short old man, with round glasses, curly grey hair, and a pointed nose. He certainly looked wicked, if not a bit rough around the edges.

"Still pretending you don't like me, aye?" I asked the man, with a chuckle.

Hadid shook his head. "I'm trying to read, Sir. Please, enjoy the rest of your day, and leave me alone!"

"That's a splendid idea!" I exclaimed, as the man looked at me with mild confusion, as well as a little fear.

"We could start a book club! I can invite people along, and I'll bring snacks and refreshments!"

"Uhh, Sir?"

"You won't need to do anything! Leave it all to me." I explained, getting a little excited about the prospect of a book club.

"Sir?"

"You've always got your nose in a book, so I think it's only fair that you select the first book for us to read. We can meet up every month and talk about it."  I told him, as a smile graced my face.

Hadid turned a dark shade of red, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Othman, I don't want to be apart of your silly little book club!"

I furrowed my brows, "But why on heavens not?" I asked, curiously. "You love to read!"