**Awarded the fourth prize at the Bibliotheca Alexandrina short story contest in 2012**
She was walking steadily passing the corridor from the bed room till the apartment’s door, her dark brown shiny hair was flowing effortlessly lacing with the space around, and as her little black strapless dress was complimenting the fiery red heels , she was embracing her purse with both hands.
She passed across the wall side mirror glancing a bit of herself that she never saw before, the clicking of her heels and the consistency of her walk made it sound like a preplanned piece of music.
Her eyes were wildly vacant, yet vibrant with a lot of emotions that are pleading to burst but to no avail, she stopped to open the door when she took a look back while courteously turning the lights off as she closed it behind.
In her car, she looked at the building for one last time, lit a cigarette while admiring her looks in the mirror. She felt hesitantly strong heavily liberated; a thought that scared her for a second until it was consciously dismissed.
She reached the old pub downtown and sat alone on their regular table , smoking her cigarette and sipping their favorite wine, starring at the empty space where all the smoke is joined together ,she remembered him , the first time their eyes met ,the first smile , the first kiss and the first time their bodies intertwined , the day she put off all her walls and mouthed the word I love you , for the first time of her life , the first time she kept a lighter , the first time she smoked , how his eyes used to pierce her being , how intoxicating he was that she defined her existence according to his book , the first fight , the first slap , the first lie and the first make up gift.
Earlier that day she was in his apartment sitting on the corner of his bed waiting for him to show up, a week ago they had a big fight and she decided to leave him but knowing how dysfunctional and abusive this relationship has become, she couldn’t imagine herself without him, he came in an hour later telling her how worthless she was, how weak and disgusting she had become and that he might take her back but on his conditions.
She couldn’t remember what happened next, only a sweep take of the various corners of the room and him standing on top of her with his eyes filled with anger looking down on her and another woman’s name being uttered in the background, then herself sitting in front of the mirror fixing her makeup; concealing a bruise while he is lying languidly on the bed behind.
The waiter came by asking if he shall bring another bottle or wait until her gentleman arrives, she looked at that shiny silver knife with his fresh blood on it in her purse and replied blithely “No, I’ll have a whisky on the rocks” ..