EXISTENCE: Recovery

PROLOGUE: For Best Friends

Text copyright © Amine Boumaraf, 2016

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarek slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to his right. Laying there beside him was his wife, Mimi, gently snoring beside him. He stroked her soft, scarlet hair, and smiled. He rose up from his bed, wearing an undershirt and boxer briefs, and made his way over to the kitchen. As he walked through the hallway, he took a look outside the windows, noting the darkness. He turned his head to the clock ticking over the house's fireplace. It read 5:52.

Okay, so about 10 minutes till Fajr. 

He walked on over to the kitchen and opened the pantry, pulling out a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. As he began pouring himself a bowl, he heard a shuffling noise from his bedroom, followed by a gentle muttering, and some footsteps. Then he heard the sound of running water. He smiled.

Guess I woke her up, huh?

He grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and poured into his bowl, making sure the amount was just right before setting the bottle back inside the fridge. He sat down and took a spoonful of the cinnamon squares, effectively waking himself up. 

Before he could make for his second spoonful, the doorbell rang.

Tarek looked up and back. A visitor at this hour? It's not even six yet. 

He got up off his chair and walked over to the door, opening it. Standing in his doorway were two people; a blonde-haired man and a blonde-haired boy, one who looked no younger than three. The man had long hair tied back in a ponytail and was rather well-dressed; the boy sported a bowtie, a small button-down shirt and an adorable pair of shorts. 

Tarek blinked for a second. Then he broke into a grin. "Well, now. If it isn't my buddy Rodrick! This is definitely a surprise!" He reached out and hugged his British friend. "How've you been, man?!"

Rodrick reluctantly returned the embrace. "You know, most well-decent people would answer their door wearing actual clothes."

Tarek let go of his friend and squat down to face the boy. "Yeah well, I think you and I both know we're not most people, eh friend?" He smiled at the boy. "And what's your name, little one?"

The boy hid behind his father's leg, wearing a look of mild apprehension. 

Rodrick chuckled. "Now, now, son, don't be afraid. It's your uncle Tarek, I've told you about him, haven't I?"

Tarek remained in his squat and gave a goofy grin. "Aw, you told your son about me, Rod?" He reached out a hand to the boy. "Come on, little friend. You can trust me." 

The boy looked over at his father, who nodded his head towards his friend. Slowly, he hobbled on over to Tarek and took his hand. Tarek, still grinning stood up and raised the boy up, eliciting a grin from the blonde boy. 

"What's your name, my little friend?" Tarek asked.

The boy smiled and said, "Ethan!"

Mimi looked out from the corner of the bedroom hallway. "Honey, who's at the door?"

Tarek looked back and shouted, "It's Rodrick!"

Mimi ran out the hallway and to the door, her face glowing. "Really?"

Tarek raised a hand. "Whoa, whoa, easy there, Mimi!" He grabbed her with his free hand. "Take it easy on yourself, will you? A pregnant woman shouldn't be running around, especially someone as far along as you."