49

Ariel

He was translating some of what Alaa had written when he heard a rattle outside. He didn’t pay any attention to it at first. It’s probably a homeless man scavenging the trash, or a cat. But it was a stubborn rattle. He stopped writing, turned down the music and the radio, and went out to the balcony. He looked at the adjacent buildings, the street, and looked down at the trash bins. Everything was quiet, as if in a state of anticipation. Only two hours left till 3 a.m. He went back in to the living room through the other door in the balcony. He touched the wall looking for the light switch to turn it on. He scanned the room, walked through the apartment, and looked behind the doors. Perhaps a mouse had gotten inside? But there was no trace of anything anywhere. The rattle subsided and then disappeared. As if it were a whisper. He went back to bed. As soon as he started reading Alaa’s notebook, he heard a whisper. He went out to the balcony again looking for the source. Then he went to the door and looked through the keyhole before opening it and craning his head. He turned on the stair light. He looked in all directions. Nothing.

He locked the door it and went back to bed. He remembered his English grandmother who always complained about hearing whispers at night. He looked at his phone. It was 2 a.m. He stretched out on the bed and looked at the to-do list. He has to change the apartment’s door lock. He wrote that down and underlined it. The next day was a public holiday, but shops will probably be open. Even if the locksmith isn’t open, he’ll call the owner and ask him to come and change the lock. Changing the door lock. He has to change the door lock. That sentence was pecking his dream. He fell asleep before the clock struck three in the morning.

The red notebook is still open.