SOPHIA
Although Abdallah doesn’t tell me stop smoking again, I don’t know why I think about it.
The whole time he’s in the shower, my mind draws up several theories. By the time he’s out, I feel drained off.
I watch him brush his hair. “I think I should get a haircut.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Do you think I should?”
“What?” Don’t be so loud. I try to act nonchalant. “Yeah, sure. Your choice.”
His brows furrow in a mocking way. “Are you sure? You seem a little constipated.”
I make a face which he smiles at. “Ha ha. You’re so funny, Abdallah.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not getting it cut.”
I heave a silent sigh of relief. “I knew it! You love your hair too much to get it cut.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not that. It’s Sunnah hair.”
Leave it to Abdallah to make something even
