It was a Good Day. She chanted this as she startlingly got up to curse the all nighter she pulled as she squints at the glaring 10:20. Grumbling at whatever force that pulled the strings in this chaotic universe she stumbles to the bathroom, clutching both sides of the sink, staring long enough at the mirror that her face loses focus, becomes a fuzzy reflection of a girl not quite willing to be labeled an independent woman just yet, but walking the fine rope of finally finding herself or succumbing to her stubbornness to keep things as they were, are. Inhaling she gently begins performing her wudu, appreciating the droplets that clung to her hair, end of her nose, ears, not bothering to wipe them away as she wraps herself in the toub, leaving behind whatever as she sets foot on the prayer rug, her high strung nerves loosening, a relief of a smile settling as she recites and finds solace in the warmth of her voice. Just as her chin touched her left shoulder as she ended her prayer the phone rings. Taking her time she takes the palm of her hands and whispers into them all her wishes and askings of grace, peace of mind and humility to all those that needed it. Covering her face with her hands she lets them trail down her face as she exhales and takes notice that the phone persisted.


– Hello?

– HALLO? HALLO? Ma bit sheely al talaphone lay ya bit!!! Be ta3mily fe shino??

– …..


A muffled exchange takes place as her mother continues to give a piece of her mind.


– Hallo? Your mother… She says Hi. Hallo?

– Baba.. . I’m here

– How’s my girl doing?

– Alhamdulilah ya baba…. Baba.. I’m kinda late…


She hears a click on the other line and knows her mother has found the other phone.


– … lisa3 da3eefa zay al haykal? Ma gadra tadrooby wa tasaly min umik? A*7r alZama…

– …. ya 7aja ma moomkin ya*7y! I called you two days ago!

–  … bara7a ya… ma goolna mafy da3y lil kawareek, al bit baraha miskeena 3indiha imti7anat…

– … inta 7asa 7sharak shino? Wa inty,  two days ago fy 3ainik! Low jeety hina da3eefa, ana ma 7a*7iliky tarja3y al jam3a dy!


Stifling her laugh she tries to speedily pack her bag, find her worn flip-flops, and cradle the phone.


– Abooy, Umi… I gotta Bounce.. yalla

– … bounce wain?

– Taib. And remember… Read the question thorou..

– … thoroughly before answering Baba yes yes I know… yalla ya mama.. wa ayyy bigeet da3eefa zay al gasha!!!  

– Goolty shino??!!

– La illaha illal Allah…

– Mohamed alrasool Allah… ma3asalama


Throwing the phone on the receiver she rushes out the dorm room, taking two steps at a time, hurriedly pushing through the exit doors. Not forgetting to appreciate the sun rays beating down her head, she sprints across the campus, grinning at familiar faces. With the beat of  her flip-flops on the just mowed grass she silently chants ‘Today was a good day’. She didn’t need to bother with the present because all in all it was one and the same; is, will, were, didn’t ring true to her but was… was the definite, the truth, the final, the outcome while the rest mere imitation, simulation. Rather than go over last minute figures in her mind she breathes in sunshine and the flighty fragrance of spring. Reaching her building she slows her gait as she enters the empty hall, readying her brain for the steady assault of heavy loaded exam questions. It was maybe twenty feet away her lecture hall door stood, and within the first sevenish paces she comes to the conclusion that maybe it was time to tell her father of the idea of a second major, and maybe stop being such an insolent daughter when her mom tries to teach her cooking, and maybe stop being such a brat to her older siblings and maybe… maybe even give this long overdue attraction a chance, hell maybe even tell hi…


Something warm spreads across her chest just four steps or so from the lecture hall door. Faltering she tries to steady herself but then there it was again only this time she feels it spray across her hand. Her body is shocked yet her mind can make no connection to this as she falls to her knees. And there… there it was again… like a soft tap to her back she falls, fighting for breath. Red, everywhere spread, little trails of it from her fingertips on the wall, now she laying in it, soaking in it, contemplating in it, Red, her own unique shade of it, second by second losing it, her vision tinted by it, heart pumping rivers of it, now she dying in it… but it made no sense, because like any other day…Today was a Good Day.