I awake to the sound of a single stomp in the early hours of dawn. And then another, and then another. And in between the cacophony was a loud crunching familiar to Jordanian ears. My mother, preparing for the morning prayers, encounters a rare intruder. And so with smooth precision her sandal comes crashing down on a golden cockroach who was, I kid you not, the size of my palm. The reason I know this is because my mother left the remains for me to encounter hours later when I discovered the body and its scattered parts only inches from the opening beneath my bedroom door.
And so tonight I lie awake, trying to bear the fumes of the empty can of Pif-Paf that now rests beside my door. Tonight I lie awake, waiting, for more Kafkaesque misadventures in the night.
“A Cockroach’s Final Moments”