Astronaut’s Daughter

                                                 Astronaut‘s Daughter

The emerald green of Kelly’s eyes was so intoxicating that it threatened to reduce the rest of her face to an afterthought. Luckily, for the civilized world and beyond, the rest of her measured up to those regal eyes. She was applying Kohl, an inspiringly sensual eastern version of mascara, a beauty regimen she had siphoned from her Iranian roommate Mehtab, sophomore year, at Stanford. She halted the Kohl’s dance around those delicate eyelids, stared at the mirror as though ordering it to press the pause button on the CD of her collegiate stroll, and smiled. It had not been an easy ride at the west coast institution, many sunny days but just as many books consumed as a double major in Philosophy and English Literature would dictate. She was stubborn, like her father, she was told but she, naturally, stubbornly, denied that- knowing fully well she may be lying to herself. Context was something that deeply concerned her since contemplation was now an esoteric extension of herself after swimming in the pool of literature. She found herself, since tonight marked the unofficial end of her undergrad journey, looking back in admiration at what lay in her trunk of knowledge. It was plenty, she concluded. Yet, she hadn’t been able to escape the sense of doom that was pressing down on her emotional force field. On a visible level, there was little in Kelly that was unattractive, in fact, the only thing missing was permanent picket white fence around her personal space wherever she went. There was only one problem and it wasn’t miniscule: she did not view her life through those glasses. Her glasses were shaded with a sinister and opaque color. The tussle between the dualities would unfold in the coming week.


To be Continued in a magazine near you


About Amr Khalifa

An analyst, a political comentator on the uber complex Egyptian and MENA scene. I may not have every answer but I know the questions to ask. When not publishing in Ahram Online, Mada Masr, Daily News Egypt and Muftah I love the dynamic of the short story. If you adore the written word you have come to the right place. Pull up a chair and join me for a cup of literary tea.
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