Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cEI0l-0004Cz-Vc for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Tue, 06 Dec 2016 07:50:32 -0800 Received: from [198.167.139.175] (port=35149 helo=lifegadgetss.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cEI0h-0004CC-GC for lojban@lojban.org; Tue, 06 Dec 2016 07:50:31 -0800 Date: Tue, 06 Dec 2016 09:14:22 -0700 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit From: "Steve Massey" Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Mime-Version: 1 Subject: Christmas-order #2758865 delivered: SharkTanks greatest gadget To: Message-ID: X-Spam-Score: -0.4 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.4 X-Spam_score_int: -3 X-Spam_bar: / standard gadgets
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With embarrassed smiles they signed a stock marriage contract Alif found on a Web site that catered to Gulf seeking to cleanse the sins they planned to commit elsewhere. Though the paper eased his mind somewhat, it took him three nights to work up the courage to uncover more than her face. They were both awkward. Alif was bewildered by her body, so much of which remained hidden to him even when she was unclothed; she in turn seemed equal parts intrigued and appalled by his. Guided by instinct, they had created this stain. The blood was Intisars, but Alif could not shake the feeling that something of his lay over it, an invisible mark of the ignorance he had shed. In the aftermath, he told her he loved her over and over again until she asked him to stop, frightened of the power she now possessed. Alif bent and rummaged through a drawer in his file cabinet. Their contract lay in an unmarked folder near the back, carefully pressed between stiff manila folds. He took out the single printed page and ran his fingers over it, tracing the ballpoint indentation of Intisars signature. His own was a secondaryschool scribble. She had laughed to see his legal name, so ordinary, lacking the edgy brevity of his screen name, the only name she had ever called him. The name she would murmur in the faint grainy light of the street lamp that illuminated his room as they lay side by side, whispering through the empty hours before dawn. Alif put the file back and closed the drawer. . He had discovered Intisar several months earlier, in a digital forum where unwholesome like himself heaped bile on the emir and his governt from behind clever pseudonyms. Intisar intruded on their conversation like an elegant reproach, sometimes to defend the emir, sometimes to add new levels of complexity to their critique. Her knowledge was so broad, her Arabic so correct, that her lineage was quickly apparent. Alif had always believed that aristocrats avoided the Internet, assumingcorrectlythat it was full of riffraff and social disease. Intisar intrigued him. He began to email her quotations on liberty by Atat??rk and John Adams; she countered with Plato. Alif was enchanted. He sent her to buy a second mobile phone so they could talk without being discovered by her family, and for weeks they spoke every night, often for hours at a time What are you thinking? shed whispered. I cant think, hed answered, and laughed. When they decided to meet, in the very tea shop where she had so recently shattered him, Alif nearly lost his nerve. He hadnt spent time alone with any besides Dina since primary school. When he saw Intisar for the first time, he envied her the enfolding anonymity of her veil; he did not know if her hands shook as his did, or if her face was flushed, or if her feet, like his, refused to obey her. She had the upper hand. She could observe him, make up her mind about whether he was handsome, assess his tendency to wear all black and decide whether this offended her or not. He, on the other hand, could do nothing but fall in love with a face he had never seen.
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