There they were, sitting neatly in a pile, beside the newsletters and various other members of the pamphlet family. I know, in a few minutes, that will change. Their fate was predestined, another inevitability in this world. I give them a longing look, hoping against hope that one of them will be mine.
I walk into the mosque and look around for possible competition to the object of my affection. The mosque isn't full today, perhaps people will sidle in later. I will have to take that eventuality into consideration. A few of the patrons pass backward glances, I know where their gaze falls. The call to prayer sounds; the coveted lay forgotten.
The prayer ends, and my mind goes back to the coveted. I look behind me to see the rows of competitors filing out. Surely there will be none left for me, but I have to try nonetheless. An overly friendly brother cuts me off to embrace me. 'Who be hugging for Maghrib Salaah,' my somewhat ebonic subconscious ponders. Surely a distraction. Embracing brother must have an accomplice outside who is collecting one for him.
Embracing brother leaves. I slowly make my way to the back of the mosque with just a smidgen of hope. Alas there seem to be but only the cheap ones, the ugly cousins. I dejectedly look for the least ugly cousin. And there under the sea of read and discarded pamphlets, I find it. The Perfect Ramadaan Timetable (The tear each day kind).
This is work of fiction but I do love finding those tear each day Ramadaan timetables.
Till next time in Waseem world.