“You’re a small girl,” he said with a smile, “but a big devil…”

“An old khwaaga24 in Al-Azarita3 loved me,” she said proudly, “and took me on, to stay as his servant. He had an old, bedridden wife.”

“But you weren’t as good at making good use of opportunities as your mistress, the café proprietress.”

“I seek nothing but shelter,” she replied simply.

He laughed loudly and told himself that it might be useful if we could find something to convince us that we are not the most miserable of all God’s creatures. “What do you expect from the future?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows for a few moments. “Our Lord is great,” she mumbled.

“You sound religious!”

She smiled at the sarcastic tone in his voice and took refuge in silence.

“But you admit yourself that you’re a devil, don’t you?”

She laughed heartily. “The time for sleep came along,” she said, “and that’s better than wearing your head out for nothing.”

He became increasingly convinced of similarities that joined him and this girl together. He conceded that she was absolutely necessary and indispensable to him in his loneliness, especially when things were really bad. The ax had fallen on the leaders and the hearings were over. He felt ill at ease, like a drug distributor when he hears all of a sudden that the big operators have been arrested. He denied the world and refused to acknowledge it any longer. He was not astonished anymore by the blustery days when the harbor was closed and the angry waves in the raging sea flew up in the air and battered the Corniche. The clouds were as dark as parts of night itself and the lightning flashed incredibly like rockets. The rain came down in torrents like little creatures running away from the wrath of the heavens. It seemed blind stupidity to stay in Alexandria, and he longed to be back in Cairo and the warm corner at El Bodega.

“I wonder where you are!” she said to him. “You’re not with me and you’re not anywhere in the world either!”

He came back down to earth again. His expression looked tired from all this wandering around in oblivion. He gave a weak smile but said nothing.

“You’ve been like this for days,” she said.

“Yes, I have,” he replied angrily. “All you listen to on the radio is the songs!”

“Are you a notable?” she asked, in an embarrassed tone.

“Or unemployed!” he said with a dry laugh.

“You? Oh no! But you certainly are a mystery.”

“They unravel mysteries.”

“Tell me, how long are you going to stay like this?”

“Let me ask you the same question.”

“My life isn’t in my hands.”

“Nor mine.” He continued with a smile. “When spring comes, we’ll each be on our own way.”

“I won’t go,” she said with an unexpected intensity, “until you have me thrown out.”