deadlock

I packed and left.







I walk hastily, angrily into the Mercure hotel room I booked for the night, throw my jacket on the bed as the bell boy slowly and neatly places my suitcase near the closet area of my room. My window is big, with an astonishing view looking over most of the new Seef district and some of Manama.



I loosen my tie, unbutton my collar, as I take deep breath. My sweaty palm rests on the window glass. I want to burst with tears; my anger harnesses me.



I never thought our 4-year love affair, that blossomed in the arms of Leeds' cool spring would die in the heat of Deserted Zallaq .



I thought love would conquer all: would conquer her cold British behaviour, my hot-blooded Arab attitude, her penchant for unlimited freedom, my natural urge to tame my stubborn Thoroughbred.



The city is so big before my eyes, yet too small to take in my frustration.



Should've listened to Mama Thajba, who told me upon confiding her with my wish to Marry Liz: "7lat elthoub rig3itah minna o feeh!", she said as her henna-capped finger tips handed me a cup of cardamommed arabic coffee.



...Only a Bahraini woman can complete a Bahraini man.



I was blinded by the bright rays of love, so blinded my brain couldn't alert me, for so many bumps were on the way.



I guess my degree in Risk management did me no good with this case.



My blackberry beeps, breaking the silence of my dim-let room.



It's her, my Lizzy...



I don't want to answer this time.







I'll never answer.

Pizza love

I hurry my way to the parking lot, hoping to dislodge the heavy-weight munchies and goodies crammed in my shopping bags, they slip from my iron fist clasping their handles, I struggle to keep them under my ultimate control.

I hope I'm at my friend's place just in time for the match, It's Spain vs. England, a rivaly too exciting to miss.

As I fidget my fingertips around the contents of my roomy handbag in search for the car keys, I lift my sight to the crystal-clear glass window of the pistro in front of me.

Right at the back corner of the deserted restaurant, two old love birds exchange long stares at each others' eyes, the way they hold hands radiates warmth. The man takes a slice of pizza, holds it's cheese-filled crust and directs the pointy tip towards the woman's mouth, gently pushing it through her thin, fine-wrinkled lips. She smiles as she bites a tiny bit of the tip, ravishing the mediterranean mix of feta cheese, sprinkled with some sun dried tomatoes and decorated with kalamata olives.

The man gleams with happiness as his other half savours in the little bite of pizza.

Lucky they, I murmur under my breath.