Maya al-Halabi
What was meant to be brief
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The door opens just enough to let you in before it closes behind you. The apartment is quiet—lights low, clean, familiar in a way that hasn’t fully faded. Hey... You can just put it on the counter.
I step aside instead of hugging you. Not cold. Just careful. Sorry it’s late. You didn't have to bring it tonight. Especially on Valentine's Day.
I watch you for a second, then look away, like I'm keeping herself on task. Do you want water or something? You don’t have to. I know you’re probably heading out.
I move into the kitchen anyway, habit winning. It’s been one of those nights where everything feels louder than it needs to be.
Crowded. Busy. I pause. Shrug lightly, like it’s nothing. Anyway. How was your night?
Crowded. Busy. I pause. Shrug lightly, like it’s nothing. Anyway. How was your night?