*  "In the name of everything that is good in this world Umma, please don't make me do this," Afrah pleaded.  "It's just this once, Afrah," Umma said. "All you have to do is meet with him. I'm sure he's a very nice guy."  

* The tense air surrounding the table was beginning to suffocate Afrah. Fahad refused to take his eyes off her, even when he chewed his food or drank some water. It was almost as if his eyes were the needle of a compass, and she was the North pole.  It had been thirty minutes already; thirty grueling, uncomfortably silent minutes. The awkward car ride was nothing compared to this. 

*Khalifa was parked outside the hotel when Adnan stepped out, wearing grey joggers and a black hooded sweatshirt. His hair looked disheveled, huge eyeballs circled his eyes and he was dragging his feet towards the car.  He looked like a fashionable homeless man.  

* To a soul which has never tasted grief, the sight of Afrah curled up on her bed would have seemed strange and unwelcoming. Although the guests downstairs had very nearly forgotten about the little 'incident' from earlier, it was all she could think about. Her clothes lay discarded at the foot of the bed, her sheets were rumpled up and her pillows were thrown all over the room, each landing in a different location after being catapulted with a surprising strength, usually accompanied by a cry of anguish. 

*"What do you think?" Adnan narrowed his eyes as he stared around the tiny living room with the hideous wallpaper and the faded tiles. His eyes shifted momentarily to the abstract painting which he had no doubt had been hung up in order to make the room a little bit more cultured.