On an ordinary Monday night, the tenacious thought of a late dinner at Hamra Street refused to stop flirting with my mind. Succumbing to it, the choice had to fall on the oh-so-famous Classic Burger Joint: nothing beats a huge mozzarella burger to sate a ravenous appetite! Once there, my worst suspicion was confirmed: “Sakkarna,” the waiter said in a stern voice, looking askance at us. The sound of his terse words sent a small wave of shock that left Pamela – my other half – and I bereft. There I stood cringing with embarrassment caused by the sound of my empty, famished stomach. A few minutes passed by before Pamela finally decided to rein the situation in. “Let us hit Deek Duke,” she beamed at me. Her sweet breath fanned across my face and so I agreed. Done with dinner, we checked the time only to realize that it was 12:30 a.m. already. Yet, for me it was never too late to call one dear childhood friend. And so I did. “Destination Alley Way,” I said, my grin refusing to subside. Obviously, I loved that street. The word excited does not even begin to cover how I felt. On the edge of my seat comes close. “What can I get you?” the waiter asked. “2 Jack Daniels, Corona for the lady and a fresh LEBANESE Almaza to cheer up the mood,” I replied loudly. I could not even hear myself so much the music was loud! “This is my idea of fun,” I thought to myself: surrounded by great people, awesome vibes and perfect music. The sound of laughter echoed all over the place and 78 Street was on fire! Suddenly my gaze met his. His horrid dark grey eyes landed on me sending a wave of panic through my system. I blinked rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. My pulse was thudding in my ears, and as I put one hand against my heart I felt it drumming hyperactively under my palm. I could not decide what frightened me more: was it his tousled appearance, his forlorn expression or his eerie looks? His lips arched with a trace of a wistful smile as he wandered the street demeaning himself by begging people for money. My eyes could not help but be drawn to that deep expression. “This is your chance,” I thought to myself. “Take a shot for this pobreza!”Unconsciously, my hands grabbed the (put your camera type here) and my finger clicked the button. There on my SD card, his face was saved. Yet, the curiosity of knowing more about him refused to leave me alone. My personal research only revealed a very blurry part: word got around he was a brilliant teacher at AUB, but as he witnessed the murder of his family the event left him lunatic.In His last Few DaysAlso See : My Last Click

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