I scooted away from the prayer mat and against the cold wall. Who knew one would still want to stay awake even after waking up at five in the morning to splash themselves with water and pray Fajr? (Morning prayer)

I don't wanna go to Uni, I don't wanna go to Uni, I don't wanna go to Uni. I repeated like a chant in my head. If only I had realized how important this day was going to be.

Today was the last day before semester break, I was visiting my dad and stepmother in Romania for the two weeks during which I could've been doing better things like finding a better job than moving furniture.

I hate it when people ask why my parents are in Romania if they're not white. Truth be told, I don't have a fucking clue, I don't have a clue why my father moved there from London when there was little to no reason to. Tell me when you find out as well.

I took out my journal and wrote whatever came to mind, as random as it was. An old habit, but it was an outlet my chaotic train of thought needed to stay calm.

"Ask me out sometime, I don't bite and you'll still regret it. You'd find me in the university library, sipping hot French Vanilla with whipped cream and a croissant. My eyes you seem to be trying to mentally drill 13mm holes into won't meet yours, let alone their owner caring to acknowledge your existence for the next- say, thirty minutes?- or however long we're there for. You, sitting across from me and hoping for some recognition for doing me the favor, while you were actually the one that wanted this. However would I, the mysterious stranger you bumped into one day, bother to reciprocate your efforts? No, I would be reading the hidden works of Kubler-Ross I made Father Jorge order last week, or learning a new bullshit theory made up by a post-graduate bum who got ahold of a publisher and downed two kegs of the happy juice in an overpriced cabin in the woods. And yes, you can keep on staring at me, thinking I don't know what part of your body your hand is gripping under the table and while looking at me. Of course you would be thankful of how far we are from where the normal crowd sits in the library. You fucking disgust me.

Shit, I cursed again.

Astaghfirullah. (Something like an apology to God)

Dumbass! I cursed myself as I rewinded to all my profane thoughts.

AAAH! Astaghfirullah! I apologized.

While the demons of my conscience battled, I noticed that the room was lightening. Dawn was quickly approaching, and here, dawn was at seven. I had to go to college at seven. I ripped off the scarf I had for prayer, and folded it within the mat. Without thinking of anything else, I started scrambling to the bathroom.

Only halfway through my shower did I realize I'd forgotten my towel, and that I'd have to walk around naked. Not that there was anyone other than me (trust me, I checked for spyware first thing after getting the place), but it was hide-chapping cold in this time of the year.

I splashed water on my face and started squishing my face muscles with the cheap face wash. I stopped when I remembered how my breath smells in the morning and decided to have mercy on anyone I talked to.

"Ah, shiznuts!" I accidentally got the micro beads in my eye, and took twenty more seconds to wash it out. It's harder to do after sticking a toothbrush in your mouth.

I spun open the mouthwash cap, basically sending it to the floor in a clatter. I took a long swig of the good stuff, and swished it around my mouth. Call me a masochist, but I enjoyed the burning, tingling sensation upon my poor soft gums and sensitive teeth.

I stormed out of the bathroom, and sprinted back to my bedroom through the slender corridor.

"Ow!" I yelped as I grazed my shoulder on the probably-tetanus-hosting hinge of my coat closet.

Gonna make it there, I'm getting there, I'm there!

Like every other rotten morning of my existence, I forgot that there was a makeshift floorboard on the way to my room.

"Owie fuck!" I grunted through a closed mouth in pain. The heart-stopping feeling of my ankle slightly bending as I fell to the side had given its comeuppance. I would die within ten seconds of a horror movie, wouldn't I?

Not missing a beat, I got back up and headed straight for my closet and in front of the mirror that would probably be screaming for help if it could if I left it as it was for even another day.

My outfit was always my work t-shirt, stretchy jeans, oversized plaids buttoned down, and my old sneakers. I wrapped my soft emerald green and white shawl around my neck. I wrapped the piece fabric of random patterns and white beadwork and green tassels around my neck, lazily realizing that it really didn't go with the rest of my distinguished attire. Or maybe I was wrong and it stood out and made a fashionable statement.

Eh, eye of the beholder and whatnot. I told myself and shrugged it off.

I got my grey backpack and hopped my way out of the elevator, stretching the back of the sneaker to fit over my heel.

How did I forget socks? Too late now, dumbass. I thought to myself to calm the pit in my stomach when I realized I didn't have socks on. Oh well, I was already at the lobby.

I knocked on the shabby quarters that belonged to my landlord, and after an incident of the idiot's mailbox full of checks and cash and the new credit card being stolen, he'd accused most of his tenants, especially me, of doing so and not paying rent. It took months of us begrudgingly working together and find the right security footage, gather all the evidence, have a fucking attorney ready if he wanted to drag us to court, and the elite sleuthing of yours truly, we managed to prove his claims false and get most of his act together. Key word: most.

This is getting annoying now I thought, as I began slamming the side of my fists against the metal door to make it ricochet louder. Finally, my kick elicited a roar from one roused landlord behind that door and jumped the bones of three passerby behind me. Tired, I put my hands on my hips.

"Yo Antonio, it's now or never! If you don't take this in two minutes I'mma leave this out for charity on your part!" I shouted when I heard footsteps.

Finally, I heard all eighty-million locks clicking away to the unlocking, before the heavy door swung open and sent a whiff of the hard happy juice and burning pot right into my nostrils.

I'm not one to judge appearances, but let's just say our dear Antonio needed a few lifestyle changes. Starting with probably taking a shower- and changing from that same tank top I could've sworn I'd seen him wear the last time I saw him, which was a month ago by the way. He could also do with a new wardrobe haul.

His bloodshot grey eyes met mine briefly before he snatched the envelope from my hands and was about to close the door, and that's when I thought of something.

Putting my foot between the door and the frame, I forced it open by quite literally putting my back into it. Antonio stopped in his path towards his recliner and turned around, crossing his arms and practically asking me what the fuck I was doing.

"Hey Antonio, I was wondering if you could probably help organize the Equinox party," I asked. "Ya know, might be worth a rent spike too," I said.

No, I didn't lose my marbles by asking my landlord to hike up the rent. If he even remembered this idea and push did come to shove, he wouldn't risk losing tenants at all and would just drop it in time. No, this was a reform exercise. Maybe if he spent time away from the bottle and outside more, he'd be motivated to make a few changes himself.

Without waiting for an answer, I turned around and left, hearing the creaking door bang shut.

I paced outside the building and spat the mouthwash out into the trash can beside me. An elderly man passing by grimaced at my disgusting act. I wiped my mouth with the sleeve and winked at him with a grin to show off my pearly whites.

It was probably going to be a nice, cold, and cloudy day without the rain and humidity. Too bad I was leaving tonight.

"Mavis!"

I turned around to find who called me, but it was too late. The idiot tripped over his own big-ass feet and landed on me. Thank God I didn't fall with him.

"Dude, watch where you're going!"

He grabbed my shoulders for support while panting. It really sucks being tall and broad shouldered. People think I'm their support handle or something.

Judging by the stubbly, reddened face framed by messy black hair and his bright hazel eyes behind big glasses widening in fear of my reaction, this was none other than Noor Yuvuz, a minor contribution to every shitty morning I had.

In a nutshell, he has this crush on me which I found out about less than a week of knowing him, and now he constantly guilt-trips me about rejecting him, then this asshole acts like I'm the one chasing after him. Talk about a chad.

"I remembered you were going to Romania today." He panted.

"Yeah, and...?" I gestured him to talk with a mocking confused expression.

"There's something I need to ask you-"

Abey oye, brake maar! (Whoa, there, hit the brakes!)

"Oh shoot, would you look at the time?" I pouted. "Life's callin'!" I exclaimed.

I started walking before he could say anything.

"Catch you later!" I quickly told him while checking my phone.

"No, no! Wait! I just wanted to ask if we could, um, you know? Hang out when you got back?" He asked with awkwardness. I swear, he could've made a whole dance routine out of that shuffling. I knew just what to say.

"Ight, you wanna help me analyze Tell-Tale Heart and help me figure out how EAP died, or watch the Twilight series back to back? Oh, and can you help me figure out which varnish is best for my floorboards?"

He looked pretentiously hurt, as the drama queen he was, but stayed quiet. Thought so, sucka!

"Exactly." I coldly said and pushed past him to make my way towards the train station. No guy in their right mind would ever want to be with a geek with a love for dull things like poetry and carpentry.

"My mother wants to meet you before you leave."

Well damn. I stopped in my tracks and whirled around at him. It would be rude to decline that offer, and I wasn't one to bear grudges because of one person.

"I'll be there at six." I told him without turning.

"Khudahafiz!" He called after me, and I returned his salutation as a sign of courtesy. (May God be with you/Goodbye)

I got into the train and found a seat, but then I saw a little girl standing in front of it trying to climb on.

Oh, what the hell.

"Here kid," I grunted as I lifted the little monster up from under her arms and placed her on the seat beside her mother who was reading a magasine with earbuds stuck in her ear.

Unfortunately, right when I started walking to the handles, the cart started moving forward and shaking before sending me toppling over my feet and my knees meeting the nasty train floor.

I did not like to admit it, but I did believe in the evil eye. Noor had jinxed me now and it was only until I asked for his forgiveness that I could be freed from the curse.

I sat up on my knees to pick up my bag and brushed myself off. While I was down there, I looked around to see nobody had been amused at this. Well, it's not like I really wanted them to laugh at me, but neither did I want to be ignored like a lunatic or like I'm satanspawn.

I slowly got up and grabbed the rod above the seats.

I admired the view outside as the shuttle went over the bridge, above the giant river that reflected the vast open sky as if it were to be another world, a concrete dam at the other end of the whole valley, making a small waterfall. The river's shores were the bottom of cliffs and steep hills, leading up to deep forests inside. I looked ahead, to the large, Victorian building that we were headed to.

Mashallah, was what I thought every single time I would cross by this place. I was truly blessed to be able to have this as a part of my daily life.
_______________________

"Mavis!"

I took off my earplugs and goggles, and wiped the sweat off my face. I had just come from my Calculus AB class to my favorite place in the world, the workshop. I had just started precutting planks for restocking, before a guy called Seth decided to startle me into nearly chopping my own hand off with the bandsaw.

I flicked the power switch off, waited it to come to a full stop, and took my hand away from the machine. The first few lessons of this class had really scared the shit out of me with the stories of bandsaw accidents.

"Shoot." I commanded. Being in a class composed of mostly guys for two semesters had really taken its toll on me, permanently I daresay. I mean, besides the first day of school when I got asked three times if I was in the right place.

"Uh, someone might have found your work last night." He told me nervously, adjusting his goggles and beads of sweat already forming on his skin.

Little did he know, I already understood what he meant from the tone of his voice.

I walked over to what was once my half-finished rack made of pine. I had joined the corners by the dovetail method, which takes almost a day to make alone, and the engraving of that forest scenery on the backboard wasn't exactly a piece of cake to carve either, especially on hardwood. I was lucky my knife hadn't broken in two, really. Turns out that not everyone was a fan of my work, or at least of its artist.

It had all been smashed to pieces and hacked to the point of no repair, and on a large piece of the backboard was a word smeared in red. A word I was far too accustomed to seeing.

TERRORIST

What stabbed my heart even more was hearing sniggers behind me of the passerby.

Without another word, I took off my goggles and the gloves before leaving the room, not caring about the people calling after me.

Seth saw me leaving, and ran to catch up with me and hurriedly walked beside me until I stopped and sharply turned to him with a blank glare. His sandy blonde hair was, as always, painfully combed to the side leaving a gaping part only an ode to the receding hairline.

What he said might have even justified murder in my opinion.

"Listen, you should probably, er, not wear that thing anymore." He said. It was like he was doing a kindness to me with this piece of advice.

Seth wasn't even a student here, he was the head of department's supervisor. Despite him being twice my age, he had it out for me the moment I set foot in that class.

I was going to say something but I remembered that patience and tolerance were two keys to the door of heaven, and I wasn't going to lose them both just for this asshole's words.

I still didn't stop, because I wasn't even headed towards the dean's office to complain. There was no point, anyway. I slipped him the finger behind my back before putting my jacket back on and leaving to go to the library.

The library was an interesting place, half chapel and half bookshelf. The librarian reflected this place as well, being both priest and librarian.

"S'up papi?" I asked with a shameless grin, walking past the front desk. Don't worry, it was all platonic, a little inside joke we had.

Father Jorge was the nicest person I had ever met, he was the one who helped me stand on my own two feet here. A pastor in his church, and a librarian for this dump. In those early days, I had helped him around with setting up the library. I know I could've been a library assistant instead of a mover, but the university didn't have the funds to hire me, and neither I didn't want money for my services. But hey, I still got extra workout and extra credit.

"I told you not to call me that, Mavis." I could almost hear him rolling his eyes behind my back as

I let out an obnoxious guffaw as I hauled my backpack up in the air and jumped onto the rope ladder up towards the second floor. Kind of a funky idea for accessing the upper platform of a library, right?
All it took me was less than two hours, a bucket of tears, jute rope from the Mountaineer's equipment room, a drilling gun, the pulleys from the giant curtains of the giant theatre in the drama section of the school, and the blessed skepticism of Father Jorge himself.

I slid my legs between two of the wooden rungs- courtesy of me, probably the only other person who gave a damn about this side of the building- and wrapped my legs around the top half of the webbed ropes. Finally, I rested my spine, hanging upside-down.

"Anything show up?" I asked as I spun around.

"For the seventh time, no. It was supposed to come yesterday, but you know how those FedUps are, right."

"It's 'FedEx', but okay." I muttered.

I pulled myself up jumped to the wooden platform, where my backpack was. I took out my Hydrology homework, eventually forgetting about the day's mishap.

Ting ting

ALMOST TIME FOR YOUR SHIFT, said the little Remind. Oh, did I mention my job to move furniture? Yeah, one could imagine how fun that was.

I called an Uber so I could go to my job. Here's how that little sequence went:

"Uh, just so you know, I smoke in the car. Sorry in advance if it offends you?" The dude awkwardly said. Well, it could have been worse, he could have actually smoked in there just to try and piss me off.

"Mind if I snag a stick?" I asked him.

"Uh, sure." He said, a bit shocked.

"Thanks, man." I said gratefully and reached over to pull out one of the cigarettes. I smoke, okay? It's a shitty habit, but it's a habit.

"For a second I thought you was one of them Arabians. Dang girl, you scared the shit outta me." He said in relief.

The car pulled up in front of a small building in downtown and I took out three dollars from my wallet and laid it on the dashboard. Of course, for the cigarette.

"Shukraan. If Allah wills it, we'll meet again, habibi." I said in a really bad Middle Eastern accent as I got out, and he tensed in fear and embarrassment. His jaw dropped, and I couldn't help but milk it. The car drove off and I took out my plaids to reveal my work shirt, and stuffed them into my bag.

I went inside the small, musty office and logged in my entry without so much as a glance at anyone.

"Hurry up, kid!" The truck driver shouted at me from the back door. I broke off into a sprint, getting a scrape by the glass door but I made it. I climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

In a nutshell, we drove to this old cottage on the outskirts of town, loaded up all the stuff the old lady told us to, and then drove down to this condo back to the midtown. It was so far up in the Mon, I think we actually got to the Niagara border for a second.

As I carried this giant floor-length mirror that Snow White's stepmother would be jealous of, the old lady decided to have a conversation.

"Where are you from, dear?" She asked. She was hovering over both of us, as if we'd steal something.

Oh fuck, not this shit again

"Main Street, ma'am. Downtown. Where d'you want this?" I quickly changed the subject.

"Oh, just on the bedroom wall beside the door." She said.

Following my assumptions, I went down the hallway. I heard her heeled steps follow me, and I sighed in relief. I had little to no sense of direction anyway.

"Which country, if you don't mind me asking?" She asked as I set the mirror down on the floor against the wall she asked me to place it against. For some reason, I hated that question with a passion. I didn't hate the answer, I just hated the reaction the other person would most likely give.

"Pardon?" I asked looking back up at her, pretending I didn't hear her.

After two couches, a round dining table, and around a million fragile knickknacks later, we called it a night.

Covered in sweat and dust, the shower calmed me down right away.

Later on, I prayed the afternoon prayers, leading me to pray the evening one and then I was all set for the day. I'd finished my homework, and I don't think the janitor needed my help much when sweeping the remnants of my project.

I had just been looking at the around, until I noticed the clock had struck six, which was when I planned to meet Noor's mother. Like, why do I even get myself into these things?

I picked up my keys and my scarf again, headed out the door and to the blue building with neon lights around it.

I stopped by the grocery store to buy a cake. It felt weird going empty handed.

I buzzed the apartment number seven and waited.

"Mrs. Yuvuz speaking, who is this?" A woman with a strong Desi accent asked.

"I'm Mahwish. Salam Alaykum. Noor invited me." I told her.

There was silence on the intercom, but I could have sworn I heard her say the istaghfar, but brushed it off. I understood that it wasn't exactly peachy to hear that your son invites some random chick you barely knew jack shit about to your crib.

There was a loud buzz before the lock clicked open. I raced inside the lobby and went straight for the stairs. The faster I got this over with, the faster I could get to Romania and get that whole trip over with. Then, I would be back to normal.

"Toh beta, aap ke ammi abbu kaha hai?" Mrs. Yuvuz asked me. (So child, where are your parents?)

We were sitting down on couches across from each other, a table holding a bowl full of jaggery cubes between us. The cake I had brought was stored safe in their fridge.

"Ji wo Romania mei rehte hai." I said politely, but I could tell my answer came off as hollow and dry. Perhaps a side effect of being alone for too long. But hey, at least my Urdu accent went stronger than the evening tea she served me. (Well, they live in Romania)

"Accha accha, Aur aap yaha pe akele rehti hai." She said in obvious false understanding. I could tell exactly how much she disapproved of her son's choice in women. (I see I see, and you live here on your own.)

I nodded. "Mei aaj unsei Milne jaari hoo." I said. (I'm going to meet them today)

"Aur aap kya parhti hai?" She asked me. Now I felt like this was an interrogation, because with each answer I could start to see through the disapproval she was trying so hard to hide. (And what do you study?)

"Ji mei Civil Engineering aur carpentry ka course karti hu." I answered straightforwardly. (I take civil engineering and carpentry)

The rest of the conversation had been so strained and pointless, my memory of it can be comparable to a goldfish's because I remember nothing more about it before I finally left.

Most things really don't catch my eye at first sight, but what really did was this girl standing outside her bedroom door trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. She looked about my age and wore a pink lacy kurta over jeans with her long brown hair tied into a high ponytail.

"Apka naam kya hai?" I asked her, blowing her cover. (And what's your name?)

"Yeh meri bhanji hai. Noor ke saath hi hamesha rehti hai." Noor's mom answered. (That's my niece. She always stays by Noor's side)

"Salamualaikum." I greeted her.

She nodded and replied her greeting back. I decided that that was my cue to leave or else I would be stuck there forever.

That could've gone way worse but also way better. But it not happening would've been for the best. It's gonna be awkward around Noor now.

Oh, my home. I remember it to be a bit tacky yet comfortable. There were no hypocrites to reprimand me for my habits, no father despising my existence in his family, yet his obligation to support me stayed. I did get his money, and perhaps that was the most kindness he could muster to his child.

Thinking about all this, I sat down on the beanbag and picked up the remote. I turned it on to find something good to watch to pass the time.

Soon enough, I was enjoying this historical Turkish show about Suleyman the Magnificent. Though I could pick up remnants of the language, I still needed the subtitles.

It was until maybe three episodes later I looked at the time to figure out each episode was almost two and a half hours long, something I could have easily found out if I had just took a glance at the runtime each time an episode ended. Finally, I turned off the TV and decided to face reality.

I'm really going to Romania again, I thought. I checked my email to find my ticket sent to me, along with a transaction receipt, right under the email for my next transaction. Classy way to rub that in someone's face, if you ask me.

I took one last look at the home I had made, with the little Calaveras on the fireplace and the little neon wall lights and the giant beanbag in the middle.

I headed straight for my closet, packed my clothes and my pet rock in an old backpack I had. Just kidding, my pet rock died a long time ago.

I changed into a grey sweatshirt and sweatpants and wore my backpack. Slipping the cigarette I took from the cab in my pocket, I called Uber again and this time to go to the airport. This is really happening.

Before I walked out the door, I had a strange feeling that something was not the same. It wasn't exactly bad, but it was different. I had a feeling that going beyond the threshold of this door was going to change everything for better or for worse. It felt surreal, like pieces of a puzzle coming together to create one picture that meant it all.

Then, I scoffed and walked out the door, locked it behind me, and strolled out with not even a glance behind me.

Only I and I alone could control my destiny, only I have the pen to write it no matter what happens. That is the promise of God.

"Khudahafiz." I said clearly while walking towards the elevator. I didn't know if anyone heard me, nor did I care this time. (Goodbye)