DAULAH

On My Bad Side

People say to you, 'you've changed', or something like that, well, I hope, for the sake of God, that you have changed, because I don't want to be the same person all my life. I want to be growing, I want to be expanding. I want to be changing. Because animate things change, inanimate things don&'t change. Dead things don't change. And the heart should be alive, it should be changing, it should be moving, it should be growing, its knowledge should be expanding.

Hamza Yusuf

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DAULAH

One week later

I don't know what I am supposed to wear on my first day at work, but since my dad happens to own the workplace and I am considered its successor, I guess that provides me the liberty of wearing whatever I want.

Opting for a stylish ensemble, I wear a Martha by Paige skinny jeans that complement my curves, pair with an emerald silk blouse featuring a scoop neckline. I style my hair in a bun with loose waves, carry a leather handbag displaying a prominent logo, and head out.

***

I walk through the impressive array of cars on display that are a testament to the success of the company as I make my way to the entrance of the building, a glass-paneled entrance that screams power and importance. This mirrors the importance I also exude with each assured stride, the click of my heels resonating on the mosaic-tiled floor.

The multitude of greetings from coworkers indicates my popularity, and I know the portrait of me adjacent to Abba's on the wall of honor at the reception conveys my identity. Everyone there assures me of their service, eager to respond to my directives. Hence, locating the Mukhtar, or rather, his office, posed no difficulty.

His absence provides an opportunity to assess his office, which I found assessable.

The office, though not expansive, projects a sense of purpose. Every inch of space is thoughtfully and deliberately arranged. The walls are bare, save for a single painting that hangs above the desk, which I am instinctively drawn to and walk over it for a closer inspection.

It is a vibrant college of vivid hues and shades, swirling and dancing across the canvas. It is both abstract and yet somehow, deeply meaningful. It is as if the painter had delved into his mind, and pulled out some deep thoughts. I am intrigued, and I find myself wanting to know more about the person who made such a striking and original work of art.

The fragrance that lingers in the air becomes stronger and that announces the bearer's presence in the room. I turn around and he is standing on the threshold, his tall, broad figure filling the doorway, and his eyes now illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the window, taking on a deep brown shade and penetrating into mine.

His outfit is simple. A crisp button-down shirt and dark jeans, yet exudes a casual elegance that is hard to ignore, his body language is relaxed, yet his posture conveys a sense of confidence.

He dominates the place by merely standing there, and it seems as if it is loyal to his ownership, standing at a still and waiting for his command.

I feel myself seeming somewhat threatened by that intimidation, and so I rally my defenses, squaring my petite shoulders to rise up to him. No one should intimidate me, no one should have such power.

He stands there watching me from the distance that space us out. I comprehend the language of eyes and that is how I know he speaks with his, and right now, he is wondering where he would start with me. And I am quite interested to see where he begins too.