By : Al-Anoud Sarhan


My words did not have the courage to escape and depart from my lips. His mind crippling gaze got me tongue tied, and all what’s left for me was twisting the conversation to divine astrology and eve’s apple…

”You taste like cigarettes.”

”Is that a good or a bad thing?” He asked.

 I did not answer.


”Addictive. I said, -with my index rubbing just underneath my nose- : You’re tricky; I breathe you in like i inhale this cigarette. Expecting relief but all i get is a cloud of smoke…”

”I am better than a cigarette…” he said.

”Really? Well. You both have alot in common.”

”I’ll take that as a compliment” .he smiled.

 I threw a cushion at him, how silly…i thought.

”We invest so much in cigarettes, yet all they give in return is illness and migraine” pretending to be bored.

He puts the cushion away, and gets up; watching him moving towards me was sensuality in motion. I could describe him in a million ways. He is beautiful, charming, red-blooded, vigorous son of a gun.

”you hold on to me the way you hold on to your cigarette, you light the fire in me and seek an exit for all those mind troubling thoughts. I am close enough to kiss your lips a hundred times a day. You mark me with your rosy lipstick and dare i wash it away? Never…” entwining his fingers with mine,and aiming at my cigarette.

He pulls the cigarette out of my mouth and kisses me…

”See. I’d still love you even when you taste like my fave Marlboro!” he exclaimed.

I realized that the cigarette was out of his Marlboro pack instead of mine.

”Haha…i was wondering what’s with the taste!”

I bit my lip; I had no idea why i blushed…

10 minutes later he’s back from the kitchen

”I made you gimonade!”


”Ginger and lemon baby.”

It was tasty, though ginger’s flavor was really strong.

”It’s great to have my own drink mixer! my numero uno! ” I kissed him on the cheek.

”Speaking of numbers, have you seen 9, the Broadway musical?”

”Nope, but if you have it let us watch it.9 is my lucky number anyway.”

As he was reaching for the dvd he turned and said: ”your lucky number?”

”It’s called numerology.” i replied

I moved the apples bowl on the table to make room for the ashtray.

”Numerology? Cool, bed related?” naughty smile.

”Birth related! ”

”then it is related!”

”how? ”I questioned.


”hahahahaaa….offcourse, the apple is essential.”

”the red one or the green one?” throwing an apple at me.

”the golden one! From the garden of the Hesperides.”

”What’s on your mind?”

”Well…In short, you have a start date, and an end date. Nothing is random, you may not believe in astrology, numerology and such, but you need to know that we are cosmos’ puppets.”


”The universe is divinely calculated; As much as i dislike mathematics i admit that nothing has more power than numbers, it’s all connected, ask magicians and voodoo whisperers! ”

He placed the dvd aside, laying his head on my lap.

”keep talking.”

I continued while caressing his chin: ”The only thing that’s random is us, the race of the forsaken on the land of Gaia. Life paths crossing each other, big mistakes, small fallacies, inclinations, etc. too bad, once you think of it, you will figure that whatever you do or say or the way your living your life is or was influenced by your upbringing, which means that you are not even random after all. Adam and Eve must have enjoyed that apple up there buddy, no signs of upbringing interference! ”

”Eve is the one to blame!” he took the apple from my hand .

”haha,as if she begged Adam to eat the apple and rock n rolla after that! ”

Throwing the apple in the air,i stole it and took a bite .

We both fell silent for a minute, and as I was running my fingers through his hair he said: ”I just wonder, was it red or green?”


”the apple!”

* Quoted ,Pia Pera