...(T)he Egyptians, who wear no hair at any other time, when they lose a relative, let their beards and the hair of their heads grow long.
- Herodotus.
My classmate, Fritz, a scholar of classical Arabic, fell in love with Samira, an Egyptian actress with ebony hair. Fritz flew back and forth trying to marry her. But Samira’s father said no. What would she do in the States? While Fritz talked to Samira’s father, she brought them cardamom-scented tea in tiny glasses. Then Fritz fell for a student in his Arabic class, a Dutch girl with a bob of blond hair. She was light and delicate-looking like a snowflake. Meanwhile, Samira still wrote to Fritz, who was now back in America, but she didn’t write often. Suddenly, Fritz announced he would fly to Egypt and marry the Egyptian girl.
The next summer, I saw Fritz again. I noticed he had let his hair grow out like a bush. He didn’t say what had happened to the Egyptian girl. The Dutch girl, I knew, was back in Holland, driving her Toyota around the countryside, looking for a job.
A reticent elephant lives down the street in an English Tudor house that’s nearly a mansion. The front door is decorated with a replica of a medieval pennant. Obviously, this elephant has taste but he doesn’t seem to want to know me. Each day, I see him drive up in his silver Mercedes, unlock his gate, park his car in the garage and disappear in his light grey clothes into the house. I sometimes encounter him walking his greyhound down the street but he’s always as silent as the elephant-trees that stroll anonymously past me dropping melancholy leaves, shapeshifting into shadows.
Ellen Lindquist’s flash fiction has appeared in Pif Magazine, the Cafe Irreal, 3 A.M. Magazine, and others. In 2004, she was invited to submit poetic texts to the London Art Biennial. Ellen has new work in weblog. She lives in Atlanta.