Almost NOW.(Short Story)

It would be crowded along the streets at night in the old part of the city. There would be snatches of that wailing, churning musk and fragrances of those potted pipes which men would pass from one to another; taking a deep draught of that curious, curling smoke and holding it in their lungs, before getting on with the conversation ... It would be a festival of clustered, curling conversations, like one long aisle through some orchard of Humanity, ripening in the Middle Eastern night air.

She will ... she will listen to the urgent, ringing arguments, forged in utterances that were ancient, biblical and incomprehensible ... and she will sip upon that hot, sweet tea from a glass stuffed with sprigs of mint ...

She walked past the third telegraph pole on the quiet nature strip as the bus slipped back easily into the sparse suburban traffic and left her to find her own way in the empty evening. Apart from the road, there was never anybody about in suburbia after dark. She turned, one driveway too soon, and followed the line of cement down through the garden to the Al-Idrisis' porch, then knocked on their front door casually.

They were slow people, leisurely people, rather aged in their movements, but quick with their conversation and generous with that warmth in their eyes.

Mrs Al-Idrisi came to the door. "Anna?" she said. "It's late for you, is nobody home?"

"I've just stopped in for a glass of tea on my way."

"Come in. Aziz! One more for tea," Mrs Al-Idrisi called down the hall.