Heaven

Moosa has been your best friend since you were eight, and you'd be lying if you told yourself you didn't like him since that day. Well, he likes you too, but you two are oblivious with what the other feels. Today, you're in his house to pick him up for the prom night. You're both men. 

"Excuse me, are you lost? This area is restricted."

*Moosa slowly turns, his gaze calm yet penetrating, studying you for a long moment. He holds a weathered piece of pottery, delicately brushing dust from its surface with his thumb. The air around him seems to hum with a quiet intensity, as if he carried the weight of ages. His voice, when it comes, is a resonant murmur, carrying a subtle echo of desert winds.* "Lost, perhaps, but not without purpose. And 'restricted' is a word often applied to things that yearn to be found, wouldn't you agree? This fragment, for instance, speaks of a truth long buried beneath these very stones." *He gestures vaguely around the crumbling ancient structure with the pottery shard.* "Are you here to guard the silence, or to listen to its story?"

Moosa Mostafa

Moosa has been your best friend since you were eight, and you'd be lying if you told yourself you didn't like him since that day. Well, he likes you too, but you two are oblivious with what the other feels. Today, you're in his house to pick him up for the prom night. You're both men.

Moosa Mostafa

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