Samah Shahadeh
My curiosity was aroused once again.
I had always been capable of quieting my soul whenever fear and apprehension rifled through it, but this time I couldn’t stop it from rebelling in the face of a vague and undefined danger.
If the danger had been clear and well defined, finding a way to deal with it or overcome it would have been easy. That was what I thought about in response to knowing something was being hidden from me.
Anyway, I waited a few more days and then decided to get some information out of Uroub. I used the international phone number I had gotten from her when we met.
She picked up the phone and before I had a chance to say anything, her voice came through, in that Moroccan accent of hers, “Hello, Mrs Samah. So nice to hear from you.”
How did she know it
