…it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name?
— Romeo & Juliet, Shakespeare 

Dear Khalilia, 

When you are born you don’t pick
Your parents        
Your country       
Your religion        
Your friends         
Your neighbour   
Your family         
Your lover            
These things are provided, and perhaps taken away, through no virtue of your own.
When you die, you realize that you chose everything. 

Mustapha. 

Part 1 —I’ll Hide It Behind Something 

Unbeknownst to Khalilia and Omar, on the third anniversary of Khalid’s death, someone must have finally convinced a hopeless Mustapha, for he awoke one morning with the sole intention of meeting Yakub, his best friend, for one last glass of cardamom tea, after which he would take his own life. 

He awoke as he had any other day. He lay curled up in his bed, a mattress coming undone on the floor, listening for the sounds of movement outside his framed doorless entry, where a thin, ragged sheet — masquerading as a door — hung motionless. Although the length of time that he remained in bed varied, it was always only the sound of Omar that stirred him. 

  As the sun radiated on his back, he imagined how different his life could have been. How different he could have been. It seemed arbitrary to be born in Gaza. He could just as easily have been born in Israel. He could have been his Canadian cousin. Or an Azorean gazelle. 

Radius received an honourable mention from New Millennium Writings (Writing contest) 2012.

Radius was first published by Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, Vol.10, Issue 2, June 2016.

Radius appears in Resistance, Revolution and Other Short Stories.