War by Nouf Al Nafisee

Posted on May 20, 2013 by

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She sat there, flipping through the pages, contemplating which personality she’d pick this time.

 

Was she the type to easily fall in love, to have the innocence of a toddler and the radiance of the sun? Was she highlighted with steaks of warmth and brushes of sand? Was she the open book that desperately pleaded for even an ounce of mystery? Was she the spontaneous and free type, fleeing the mere thought of consequences? Did she want to travel to Bora Bora and absorb endless nights on the shore? To cram four hours before her final, to eat ice cream in the rain, and to fly south during the winter because she missed the light on her hair? Did she want to be love, yet belittled?

 

 

Or did she want a completely different personality. One that wrapped her in elegance and mystery. One that made each and every word of hers seem to have an inception of deeper meanings. One that obliged people to watch her, mesmerized by every stroke. It made her want to read books because living only one life was such a waste. It made her want to go to Paris and stare at the landmarks, not because she had seen them on TV, but because she had learned the stories behind them. It made people come to her for help, for guidance. Did she want to be loved, yet intimidating?

 

Sigh.

 

She was next in line; her salon appointment had approached. She had to decide who would conquer: blonde or brunette.

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