26. The Air
الهوا
Hawa first barrelled down the alley beside the Saadoun home. Her steps were adroit and silent. She had learned from experience that the more one hesitates, the greater the risk of making a scene. So like a mighty wind and with purpose, she made for the sea. She ran across one large avenue. A car several yards away honked its horn at her, but it was moving much more slowly than the winged Hawa, small, wrinkled, and agile, wrapped in her black cloak, face like a warrior. She made a gesture as if to flick the automobile aside with her hand. She had existed before the automobile. She was the Queen of Cleopatra. ‘Village i***t,’ she muttered under her breath, as she looked back to catch a glimpse of the impudence that would dare honk at her. It was a young dandy. She felt sh
