"You can't love someone back to life, Israfil." She whispered. Her chest heaved with desperation, her heart throbbing against her rib cage.
He shook his head, "You can try," Israfil responded softly. "Let me love you, Farah."
-
In a society of lies...
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chapter twenty three - phone calls
song of the chapter ; ocean eyes - billie eilish
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BONES CURL AROUND her withering heart, squeezing out all of the hope until it oozes out of her pores before it is nothing more but hot Las Vegas suburban air. Despair clung to Farah's skin like the sweat from the humidity as she watched the almost quiet neighborhood, the bark of a dog in the distance one of the only audible sounds. Almost all of the street lights were flickering, some of them had cut out, while others are casting an eerie yellow-orange glint on the street.
What should I do now?
The question was making her head throb with its repetitive nature. She had no way of getting back to the city, the taxi had driven off, and this godforsaken neighborhood was at least five minutes away from the center of Boulder city. To get there, she would have to walk for at least half an hour, through the dry Nevada desert that lay between the two settlements. But she knew she couldn't walk across a deserted road in the middle of the night.
She remembered her phone in her back pocket.
Farah nearly wept in happiness when she pulled it out and saw that it did indeed have service. She unlocked it, about to type in a number, when a name caught her eye.
Israfil Aamer.
He must've added it to her phone when she wasn't looking.
Printed in bold on her screen, the glare of the name practically blinding her vision, but she didn't care. Holding her breath, finger padding across the glass, she pressed the contact name, unsure. Her hand was shaking as she stared at the phone number, almost as if they were testing her boldness, her bravery. After staring at the screen for two minutes, constantly weighing her options, she pressed the 'call' button and held it to her ear.
The ringing blared in her ear, and when the line picked up, her breathing hitched.
"Hello?"
Farah's anxiety clogged her throat, not allowing air to enter her lungs.
"Hello?" Israfil asked again, "Who is this?" His voice was raspy and cracked, as if he hadn't drunk water for days. He hadn't had her contact saved, because they had never called each other on the phone before.
"Israfil?" Farah squeaked out, teeth tugging on her lip.
The phone went silent, "Farah, is that you?" Disbelief dripped from his tone, as if he weren't able to process this was happening at all.
Farah wiped at her face, unsure if the wetness was because of sweat or tears. "Yeah."
He mumbled an incoherent Arabic phrase, "Jesus Christ, Farah. Where are you? Are you okay?"
