The Desert Rose

Police Station

Time passed ver slowly in that narrow corridor--so slowly she thought it has completely stopped.

Outside the precinct, life was In full swing. Only for her had time ground to a halt. 'Surely they've already noticed at home that I've been taken in.'

She felt uneasy. Fear reared its head once more. Her palms began sweating treacherously.

Yasmin tried hard to distract herself by thinking about something else. Something unrelated to the events of the last few days.

However, she could only think of the rebel: "Run."

His call sounded so vividly in her mind. It almost compelled her to run again. From who, she wasn't sure.

'Was he trying to warn me? about the police? But why? Why would he need me? And this flower? Did he want me to be taken with his ideas? His personality?'

The questions hung in the air. There was no answer. As if the answer was horrible-- something best not talked about.

***

The hands lazily crawled around the dail of the clock. Yasmin suddenly realized that not much time had passed since she had fled her father's home on impulse. 'So much has already happened!'

The police kept her waiting. Guilt pressed down on her heavily, allowing old questions without answers to worm their way Into her mind.

Had she made the right call? We're they other ways to solve the problem? Could she get through to her father?

She dismissed these questions. 'There was probably no other way. I need to learn to live differently.'

To keep herself busy, Yasmin decided to look around the precinct. Some people In other rooms were screaming and pleading to be let go. Another person was bitterly swearing.

It was like a flow of unnecessary information that she wanted to shut off. Then suddenly, a police officer walked past.

"yes, take him in for questioning. A tramp. Stealing again! The last thing I want is to be near such people." The police man said to his colleague.

"Are you squeamish?" His colleague asked.

"Squeamish? Have you been out in the sun for too long?" The policeman asked back in annoyance.

"Yes, you must've slathered yourself with oud and sandalwood oils. Now the tramps don't measure up anymore. Their lovely scent!"

There was a deep rumble if masculine laughter. "They only smell of sores and stinking breath. Lots of them have some kinds of horrible cough." The policeman said with disgust.

"What, do they have the plague?! Ha ha ha." His colleague laughed.

"you're joking, but Murad caught something from one of them. He's been sick in bed for a week. It's a strange cough... I'm worried it might shorten his life." The policeman voice was filled with anxiety.

"Women, promiscuous women--yjats what shortens his life." The man colleague mocked.

Yasmin listened carefully to the conversation. It seemed the meaningless chatter between colleagues, save for the discussion of the strange cough. 'wasn't there something similar in that strange newspaper about a cough? I need to rack my brain and remember."

Yasmin tried to recall the specific memories. Leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes, the lines sprang to her mind, one following the next in the memory. A dry, sharp cough that blocks the breaths. The person gets feverish. Her skin started crawling as if in sync with her thought.

'Dry eyes and an unusual-looking rash.' As she thought of this, she felt her skin Begin to itch. She jerked her hands away before she can even scratch at it, trying to drive away the phantom sensation. 'This is scary. Did Murad really did catch the virus?'

Yasmin stayed in her seat and continued to wait. Silently and patiently, so as not to attract attention. 'They don't have time for me, which means they won't demand my ID.'

"You've been sitting here for a while, haven't you?" A policeman came up to her and asked.

It took Yasmin some moments to realize that he was addressing her. "You.." she wanted to say something but was cut of by the policeman.

"Yes, Me. It's alright, just breathe...my name is Abbas. You're in a police station. pull yourself together." He started snapping his fingers in front of her face, urging her to collect her thoughts "You're lucky."

"Excuse me...are you talking to me?" Yasmin asked after snapping out of her daze.

"No, to the painting on the wall! Of course I'm taking to you." The policeman said with a frown.

"I'm lucky...what, ate you going to throw me inside a vip cell? weren't you going to call my husband?"

"I see your jokes are as bad as your behavior. we made a mistake. You're not the one we are looking for. The missing wife has been found, and it's not you."

'Really, thank heaven, at least they're lucid today.'

"I don't know what is going on with your family, but no one has filled a missing person report for you. Do you have a father?"

A shiver went through Yasmin's body upon hearing the word "father".

"Oh, well. I'll just check your documents. Maybe that will she'd some light. That little stunt of yours with the rebel..."

"What stunt? Today was the first time I've ever seen this rebel! But apparently not the last, because you're doing anything other than finding him."

Abba's colleague, who was passing by, approached to listen. The very mention if the rebel made him stop in his tracks. And made him want to hear the rest of the conversation.

"It's kind of wierd, don't you think? Mr. kadir..."

"Shhhh! what are you talking about? You are out of line!" Yasmin was cut of by Abba.

"Abba's, leave her. We'll finish this up later." Abba's colleague told him.

"She has been sitting here for a long time. We need to check." Abba responded.

"Later, I'm telling you. I've got something to show you. Urgently." The colleague persisted.

"You paid for that big mouth of yours. You'll have to wait here for a while.