Remembrance & forgetfulness

Ghada

Ghada graps her bowl of over microwaved popcorn. You'd think that she might do it right because the time is clearly specified on the back of the popcorn bag, but how can we call her Ghada if she doesn't do simple kitchen tasks in the most absurd of ways. She graps her Strawberry smoothie and makes her way to the comfort of her beloved chewed on and peed on couch, the pee and chewing was graces from her wonderful husky Saint Sabastian. She turns on the TV and feeds the DVD device that one movie that one guy recommended that one day at that one DVD store. The DVD starts its infinite cycle of projecting beautiful colors and shapes onto the flat squared magical box while silently humming as the pictures dance and move. She loved Films that left you feeling different, Films that inspired you and gave you something to think about, the ones that transport you into a different state of being along the length of them. Ones that made you live them. She let out a sigh and lounged on the beloved sofa, turning up the volume a few eveb numbers up. And thus it began.

A few hours later, 2:30:06:07 to be exact, Ghada gets up and shakes the stillness off her frame, she's tall and slim but not particularly overly skinny. She's fit with curves like the ones of her mother land. She has long legs and long limbry arms with a long back and a long neck to match them; so very harmoniously proportional. Her skin was the richest earthy colors, Brown like roasted coffee. She had falls of black hair that descended all the way to the middle of her back. She always let it flow into curls that resembled the sound waves of laughter. She can be mistaken for an African Goddess.

On good days, really good days Ghada can be mistaken for 5'7 ft. She loved her height and thought it something to be proud of & Today was a good day, hopefully.

Ghada was dressed in her usual statemental provoking t-shirts. Today it was the environment & her roughed up jeans that she inherited from some ancestor by the looks of them. In her opinion Ghada thinks it's not worth dressing up to your part time job at tge café around the corner of your cheap but turned into a soul satisfying personal cave/hiding place apartment.

Ghada takes her place on the counter and starts tending to the customer with their specific orders and particular taste. She liked to play this game of guessing; she'd try looking at a person and describing what they'd order depending on their interactions and exterior appearance. She would do internal celebrations whenever she guessed one right.

The day went by swiftly and uneventfully. She took of her apron and went to the back of the coffee shop to tell Mark the coffee shop owner and her current boss that she was off. Mark was a tall lanky guy who had problems deciding how he wanted to grow his facial hair. He was humorous and he was an art major hence the artistic décoré of the café was explainable. Ghada liked Mark and thought him a good natured person. He gave her a smile and handed her her long awaited paycheck. Ghada curbed her enthusiasm and said thank yoy walking out of the little office in the back. Even though it wasn't much Ghada could see potential in the little sum of money that was her paycheck. She plugged her Headphones on & gave into the musical guniesness off Edgar White. She walked home in silence her footsteps matching the rythm of the music that blasted off in her ears.

Upon her arrival that evening in her third floor apartment. She decided it's time to Call Haneen and inquire about her recent dramatic happenings and events. She showered first and changed into her heavenly comfortable sweats before calling Haneen because she knew it was a going to be one long call. She let out a sigh before speed dialing the number. ringing once, ringing twice... "Ghada you have no idea what happened! its the most terrifying thing ever..."