منذ 9 سنوات 
He told her, “I’ve known you for years although I met with you only twice.” Then he smiled and kept on stroking his steering wheel.
I don’t know why I hated you the first time I met you.
A state of inner gloom raged in her, but she was aware of retaining the usual mask: not to counteract. She asked him calmly, “Strange how you hated me without a reason, although we never spoke, and there was no reason to develop an impression I did not grant you.”
They both went silent for some while, and then changed the course of conversation and chatted about the shop windows and the blue seawater. Silence generated a depressing atmosphere, which led him to drive his car extremely fast. Then he looked at her and said,
“You are the first woman who is not afraid of my fast driving.”
-“I do not fear the act, but the doer,” she replied.
“Then you feel comfortable towards me whatever my action.”
-“That’s how I feel until now, but…” she went silent.
“But what?” He inquired.
And without any smile, she whispered,
-“Nothing.”
“An imperfect answer,” he commented.
-“Nothing is perfect in this world.” She assured.
“You are good at evasion.” He replied.
-“No, I do not run away; my feet are still fixed on the ground, then the ground is fine.”
“What’s important is that I feel the happiest moments when you are next to me.” He confessed.
-“Tell me why you hated me on our first meeting.” She inquired
“Your eyes were spiraling.” He remarked.
(She smiled and remembered that eyes possess secrets that men fear. She felt she scored a sweet victory.)
The next day they met in a mixed atmosphere of formalities and private atmosphere. They exchanged looks full of longing, and they danced to the sound of music like two lovers. That was the beginning of a new state in her life, and imagined she was in the company of her lifetime lover.
In the facing corner, a brunette was sitting with her friends. He walked up to her, flirted with her, shook her hand and kissed her. He walked back to her table as though nothing had happened.
She tried to know who was the woman who shared her the hand clutching, and the reason of his interest in another woman, although she was brunette. She thought again, and blamed herself for being jealous unjustifiably, knowing that nothing bonds her with that man; consequently, she has no right against him whether he talks, flirts, or even falls in love with another. But the situation inside her bloated into fury and wrath, and she was on fire.
She started dancing while burning with jealousy. She started to talk to everyone around in an attempt to defend her disappointed femininity,
On their way back to the car, she turned her head to him, avoiding looking at him and walking away alone. He clutched her shoulder with his big hand, and said,
“Where would you like to go?”
“To my friends.” She answered halfheartedly.
Without uttering a word, he held her hand, led her inside his car, and started driving like a maniac.
Her tears poured down her eyes, but they were hidden by the darkness of the night. She lay there scratching his hands violently. She was tongue-tied. No Power equates the Work of Fingernails.
)
