اللَّوْحَةُ الْجَدِيدَةُ

فِي الصَّبَاحِ الْبَاكِرِ، كَانَ السُّوقُ الْقَدِيمُ هَادِئًا. سَمِعَتْ لِينَا صَوْتَ الْمَاءِ فِي إِبْرِيقِ أُمِّهَا، وَصَوْتَ رَجُلٍ يَفْتَحُ دُكَّانَهُ. أَحَبَّتْ هَذَا الْوَقْتَ قَبْلَ أَنْ يَمْتَلِئَ الطَّرِيقُ بِالنَّاسِ.

Early in the morning, the old market was quiet. Lina heard the water in her mother’s kettle and a man opening his shop. She loved this time, before the road filled with people.

أَمَامَ لِينَا لَوْحَةٌ مِنَ الْخَشَبِ، وَبِجَانِبِهَا عُلْبَةُ طِلَاءٍ أَزْرَقَ. كَانَتْ تَكْتُبُ اسْمًا بِفُرْشَاةٍ صَغِيرَةٍ. وَعِنْدَمَا انْتَهَتْ مِنَ الْحَرْفِ الْأَخِيرِ، بَعُدَتْ عَنْهُ قَلِيلًا لِتَنْظُرَ إِلَيْهِ.

In front of Lina was a wooden sign, with a tin of blue paint beside it. She was writing a name with a small brush. When she finished the last letter, she stepped back a little to look at it.

كَانَ الِاسْمُ «أَمَل». وَتَحْتَهُ كَتَبَتْ لِينَا بِأَرْقَامٍ صَغِيرَةٍ: «٦». هَذِهِ لَوْحَةُ الْبَابِ السَّادِسِ فِي السُّوقِ الْجَدِيدِ. وَكَانَتْ لِينَا قَدْ أَعَدَّتْهَا مُنْذُ أَيَّامٍ.

The name was “Amal.” Beneath it, Lina had written a small “6.” This was the sign for Door Six in the new market. Lina had prepared it days earlier.

قَالَتْ صَبَاحُ مِنْ خَلْفِهَا: «هَلْ سَتَنْظُرِينَ إِلَى هَذِهِ اللَّوْحَةِ حَتَّى الْمَسَاءِ؟» لَمْ تَرْفَعْ لِينَا رَأْسَهَا. أَجَابَتْ: «حَتَّى يَجِفَّ الطِّلَاءُ فَقَطْ».

From behind her, Sabah said, “Are you going to stare at that sign until evening?” Lina did not lift her head. “Only until the paint dries,” she replied.

وَضَعَتْ صَبَاحُ كُوبَ شَايٍ قُرْبَ ابْنَتِهَا. «إِذًا سَأَشْرَبُ شَايِي قَبْلَ أَنْ يَجِفَّ». ابْتَسَمَتْ لِينَا. كَانَتْ أُمُّهَا تَبِيعُ الشَّايَ فِي هَذَا الْمَكَانِ مُنْذُ سَنَوَاتٍ طَوِيلَةٍ.

Sabah set a cup of tea near her daughter. “Then I’ll drink my tea before it dries.” Lina smiled. Her mother had sold tea in this spot for many years.

كَانَ السُّوقُ الْقَدِيمُ صَغِيرًا، وَسَقْفُهُ يَسْرُبُ مِنْهُ الْمَاءُ عِنْدَ الْمَطَرِ. لِذَلِكَ اتَّفَقَ التُّجَّارُ عَلَى الِانْتِقَالِ إِلَى سُوقٍ جَدِيدٍ. فِيهِ عَشَرَةُ أَبْوَابٍ، وَسَقْفٌ جَيِّدٌ، وَمَكَانٌ لِلْبَيْعِ فِي أَيَّامِ الْمَطَرِ.

The old market was small, and water leaked through its roof when it rained. So the traders had agreed to move to a new market. It had ten doors, a good roof, and a place to sell even on rainy days.

بَقِيَ أُسْبُوعٌ وَاحِدٌ عَلَى افْتِتَاحِ السُّوقِ الْجَدِيدِ. لِهَذَا كَانَتْ لِينَا تَعْمَلُ كُلَّ يَوْمٍ. تَكْتُبُ الْأَسْمَاءَ عَلَى اللَّوْحَاتِ، وَتَنْتَظِرُ حَتَّى يَجِفَّ الطِّلَاءُ، ثُمَّ تَضَعُ كُلَّ لَوْحَةٍ فِي مَكَانٍ آمِنٍ.

Only one week remained before the new market opened. That was why Lina worked every day. She painted names on signs, waited for the paint to dry, and then put each sign somewhere safe.

فِي هَذَا الصَّبَاحِ، دَخَلَتْ خَدِيجَةُ مِنْ بَابِ السُّوقِ. كَانَتْ تَحْمِلُ وَرَقَةً مَطْوِيَّةً. تَوَقَّفَتْ لِتُسَلِّمَ عَلَى صَبَاحَ، ثُمَّ اقْتَرَبَتْ مِنْ لِينَا. كَانَتْ خَدِيجَةُ تَبِيعُ الْقُمَاشَ، وَتُسَاعِدُ التُّجَّارَ فِي تَنْظِيمِ السُّوقِ.

That morning, Khadija came through the market entrance carrying a folded sheet of paper. She stopped to greet Sabah, then came over to Lina. Khadija sold cloth and helped the traders organise the market.

قَالَتْ خَدِيجَةُ: «صَبَاحُ الْخَيْرِ. هَلِ انْتَهَتْ لَوْحَاتُ الْأَبْوَابِ؟» قَالَتْ لِينَا: «بَقِيَتْ ثَلَاثٌ. وَهَذِهِ لَوْحَةُ الْبَابِ السَّادِسِ». أَشَارَتْ إِلَى الِاسْمِ الْأَزْرَقِ عَلَى الْخَشَبِ.

“Good morning. Are the door signs finished?” Khadija asked. “Three are left. And this is the sign for Door Six,” Lina said, pointing to the blue name on the wood.

نَظَرَتْ خَدِيجَةُ إِلَى اللَّوْحَةِ، ثُمَّ إِلَى الْوَرَقَةِ فِي يَدِهَا. قَالَتْ: «هُنَاكَ تَغْيِيرٌ صَغِيرٌ. ضَعِي اسْمَ حَامِدٍ عَلَى الْبَابِ السَّادِسِ، وَاسْمَ أَمَلَ عَلَى الْبَابِ التَّاسِعِ».

Khadija looked at the sign, then at the paper in her hand. “There is a small change. Put Hamid’s name on Door Six and Amal’s name on Door Nine.”

لَمْ تَضَعْ لِينَا الْفُرْشَاةَ مِنْ يَدِهَا. سَأَلَتْ: «الْبَابُ السَّادِسُ؟ أَلَمْ يَكُنْ لِأَمَلَ؟» أَجَابَتْ خَدِيجَةُ بِسُرْعَةٍ: «كَانَ كَذَلِكَ. لَكِنَّ أَمَلَ وَافَقَتْ عَلَى التَّبْدِيلِ».

Lina kept the brush in her hand. “Door Six? Wasn’t it Amal’s?” she asked. “It was,” Khadija answered quickly, “but Amal agreed to the exchange.”

نَظَرَتْ لِينَا إِلَى اسْمِ أَمَلَ. كَانَ الطِّلَاءُ جَافًّا، وَكَانَتِ الْحُرُوفُ مُسْتَقِيمَةً وَوَاضِحَةً. سَأَلَتْ: «وَهَلْ تُرِيدِينَ لَوْحَةً جَدِيدَةً لِلْبَابِ السَّادِسِ؟» قَالَتْ خَدِيجَةُ: «نَعَمْ، وَلَكِنْ لَا تَتَأَخَّرِي».

Lina looked at Amal’s name. The paint was dry, and the letters were straight and clear. “And do you want a new sign for Door Six?” she asked. “Yes, but don’t delay,” Khadija said.

قَالَتْ صَبَاحُ: «لِينَا تَعْمَلُ مِنَ الصَّبَاحِ حَتَّى اللَّيْلِ. دَعِيهَا تَشْرَبُ الشَّايَ أَوَّلًا». ضَحِكَتْ خَدِيجَةُ ضَحْكَةً قَصِيرَةً. «اشْرَبِي الشَّايَ، ثُمَّ أَكْمِلِي الْعَمَلَ».

“Lina works from morning until night. Let her drink her tea first,” Sabah said. Khadija gave a brief laugh. “Drink your tea, then finish the work.”

قَبْلَ أَنْ تَذْهَبَ، نَادَاهَا رَجُلٌ مِنْ آخِرِ السُّوقِ. كَانَ يَحْتَاجُ إِلَى مَنْ يُسَاعِدُهُ فِي حَمْلِ صُنْدُوقٍ. تَرَكَتْ خَدِيجَةُ الْوَرَقَةَ فِي يَدِهَا وَذَهَبَتْ إِلَيْهِ. لَمْ تَسْأَلْ عَنْ أُجْرَةٍ، وَلَمْ تَنْتَظِرْ شُكْرًا.

Before she left, a man called to her from the far end of the market. He needed help carrying a box. Still holding her paper, Khadija went over to him. She did not ask for payment or wait for thanks.

رَأَتْ لِينَا ذَلِكَ مِنْ مَكَانِهَا. كَانَتْ خَدِيجَةُ تُسَاعِدُ النَّاسَ كَثِيرًا. وَقَدْ سَاعَدَتْ لِينَا أَيْضًا فِي أَيَّامٍ قَلَّ فِيهَا الْعَمَلُ. لِذَلِكَ لَمْ تَكُنْ لِينَا تُحِبُّ أَنْ تُسَبِّبَ لَهَا أَيَّ مُشْكِلَةٍ.

Lina watched from her place. Khadija often helped people. She had even helped Lina when work was scarce. That was why Lina did not like the thought of causing her any trouble.

فَتَحَتْ صَبَاحُ الْإِبْرِيقَ، ثُمَّ قَالَتْ: «لَا أُرِيدُ أَنْ أَسْمَعَ خِلَافًا عَلَى لَوْحَةٍ مِنْ خَشَبٍ». قَالَتْ لِينَا: «هِيَ لَوْحَةُ بَابٍ، يَا أُمِّي». أَجَابَتْ صَبَاحُ: «وَالنَّاسُ يَتَخَاصَمُونَ عَلَى أَشْيَاءَ أَصْغَرَ مِنَ الْبَابِ».

Sabah opened the kettle and said, “I don’t want to hear an argument over a piece of wood.” “It’s a door sign, Mother,” Lina said. “People argue over things smaller than a door,” Sabah replied.

شَرِبَتْ لِينَا قَلِيلًا مِنَ الشَّايِ. كَانَ دَافِئًا، وَلَكِنَّهُ لَمْ يَكُنْ حُلْوًا. نَسِيَتْ أُمُّهَا السُّكَّرَ مَرَّةً أُخْرَى. لَمْ تَقُلْ شَيْئًا؛ فَصَبَاحُ كَانَتْ تَقُولُ دَائِمًا إِنَّ السُّكَّرَ يُفْسِدُ طَعْمَ الشَّايِ الْجَيِّدِ.

Lina drank a little tea. It was warm but not sweet. Her mother had forgotten the sugar again. Lina said nothing; Sabah always said that sugar spoiled the taste of good tea.

بَعْدَ قَلِيلٍ، أَخَذَتْ لِينَا دَفْتَرَ عَمَلِهَا وَذَهَبَتْ إِلَى اللَّوْحَةِ الْكَبِيرَةِ عِنْدَ بَابِ السُّوقِ الْجَدِيدِ. كَانَتْ عَلَيْهَا قَائِمَةٌ بِأَسْمَاءِ التُّجَّارِ وَأَرْقَامِ الْأَبْوَابِ.

A little later, Lina took her work notebook and went to the large noticeboard at the entrance to the new market. On it was a list of the traders’ names and door numbers.

قَرَأَتْ لِينَا الْأَسْمَاءَ بِبُطْءٍ. الْبَابُ الْأَوَّلُ، الْبَابُ الثَّانِي، ثُمَّ الثَّالِثُ. وَعِنْدَ الرَّقْمِ السَّادِسِ وَجَدَتْ اسْمَ حَامِدٍ. أَمَّا اسْمُ أَمَلَ فَكَانَ عِنْدَ الرَّقْمِ التَّاسِعِ.

Lina read the names slowly. Door One, Door Two, then Door Three. At number Six she found Hamid’s name. Amal’s name was beside number Nine.

كَانَتِ الْقَائِمَةُ جَدِيدَةً. أَمْسِ، لَمْ تَكُنْ لِينَا قَدْ قَرَأَتْهَا. كَتَبَتْ فِي دَفْتَرِهَا: «٦ — حَامِد. ٩ — أَمَل». ثُمَّ أَغْلَقَتِ الدَّفْتَرَ، وَلَمْ تَشْعُرْ بِأَنَّ الْأَمْرَ أَصْبَحَ أَوْضَحَ.

The list was new. Lina had not read it yesterday. She wrote in her notebook: “6 — Hamid. 9 — Amal.” Then she closed the notebook, but did not feel that matters had become any clearer.

كَانَتْ أَمَامَ السُّوقِ الْجَدِيدِ أَبْوَابٌ مُغْلَقَةٌ. فِي أُسْبُوعٍ وَاحِدٍ، سَيَفْتَحُهَا التُّجَّارُ وَيَضَعُونَ بِضَائِعَهُمْ دَاخِلَهَا. وَقَفَتْ لِينَا لَحْظَةً، ثُمَّ عَادَتْ إِلَى مَكَانِهَا فِي السُّوقِ الْقَدِيمِ.

The doors of the new market were still closed. In one week, the traders would open them and put their goods inside. Lina stood there for a moment, then returned to her place in the old market.

وَجَدَتْ أُمَّهَا تُنَادِي عَلَى الْمَارَّةِ لِيَشْرَبُوا الشَّايَ. وَكَانَتْ أَمَلُ وَاقِفَةً قُرْبَ الْكُرْسِيِّ الصَّغِيرِ. وَرَاءَهَا عَرَبَةٌ ثَقِيلَةٌ عَلَيْهَا خُضْرَوَاتٌ وَمَرْطَبَانَاتٌ مِنَ الْمُخَلَّلِ.

Her mother was calling to passersby to come and drink tea. Amal stood near the small chair. Behind her was a heavy cart carrying vegetables and jars of pickles.

كَانَتْ أَمَلُ تَنْظُرُ إِلَى اللَّوْحَةِ الَّتِي عَلَيْهَا اسْمُهَا. سَأَلَتْ لِينَا: «هَلْ تَحْتَاجِينَ إِلَى لَوْحَةٍ جَدِيدَةٍ؟» قَالَتْ أَمَلُ: «لَا. جِئْتُ لِأَشْرَبَ الشَّايَ. وَلَكِنِّي أَرَى أَنَّ اسْمِي مَا زَالَ هُنَا».

Amal was looking at the sign with her name on it. “Do you need a new sign?” Lina asked. “No. I came for tea. But I see my name is still here,” Amal said.

وَضَعَتْ أَمَلُ يَدَهَا عَلَى الْقُمَاشِ الَّذِي يُغَطِّي الْعَرَبَةَ، وَأَصْلَحَتْ طَرَفَهُ. كَانَتْ تَفْعَلُ ذَلِكَ كُلَّمَا تَوَقَّفَتْ لِلْكَلَامِ. قَالَتْ بِصَوْتٍ مُنْخَفِضٍ: «سَمِعْتُ أَنَّكِ سَتَكْتُبِينَ اسْمًا آخَرَ عَلَى الْبَابِ السَّادِسِ».

Amal put her hand on the cloth covering the cart and straightened its edge. She did that whenever she stopped to talk. In a low voice, she said, “I heard you’re going to put another name on Door Six.”

أَجَابَتْ لِينَا: «طَلَبَتْ مِنِّي خَدِيجَةُ ذَلِكَ هَذَا الصَّبَاحَ. قَالَتْ إِنَّكِ وَافَقْتِ عَلَى الْبَابِ التَّاسِعِ». سَكَتَتْ أَمَلُ، وَنَظَرَتْ إِلَى لِينَا بِدُونِ غَضَبٍ، وَلَكِنْ بِدُونِ ابْتِسَامَةٍ أَيْضًا.

“Khadija asked me to do that this morning,” Lina replied. “She said you agreed to Door Nine.” Amal fell silent and looked at Lina without anger, but without a smile either.

قَالَتْ أَمَلُ: «أَنَا لَمْ أُوَافِقْ عَلَى ذَلِكَ». لَمْ تَرْفَعْ صَوْتَهَا. لَكِنَّ كَلِمَاتِهَا كَانَتْ وَاضِحَةً. سَأَلَتْ لِينَا: «هَلْ أَنْتِ مُتَأَكِّدَةٌ؟» فَأَجَابَتْ أَمَلُ: «نَعَمْ. هَذَا مَا أَقُولُهُ».

“I did not agree to that,” Amal said. She did not raise her voice, but her words were clear. “Are you sure?” Lina asked. “Yes. That is what I’m telling you,” Amal replied.

مَرَّ رَجُلٌ بِجَانِبِهِمَا وَطَلَبَ كُوبَيْنِ مِنَ الشَّايِ. ذَهَبَتْ صَبَاحُ لِتُعْطِيَهُ إِيَّاهُمَا. وَفِي تِلْكَ اللَّحْظَةِ، مَدَّتْ أَمَلُ يَدَهَا إِلَى اللَّوْحَةِ، ثُمَّ تَوَقَّفَتْ قَبْلَ أَنْ تَلْمِسَ الطِّلَاءَ.

A man passed by them and ordered two cups of tea. Sabah went to give them to him. At that moment Amal reached toward the sign, then stopped before touching the paint.

قَالَتْ أَمَلُ: «لَا أَطْلُبُ مِنْكِ أَنْ تَتَخَاصَمِي مَعَ أَحَدٍ. فَقَطْ لَا تَضَعِي اسْمًا آخَرَ فَوْقَ اسْمِي حَتَّى نَفْهَمَ الْأَمْرَ». وَسَحَبَتْ يَدَهَا. «هَذَا كُلُّ مَا أُرِيدُهُ الْيَوْمَ».

“I’m not asking you to quarrel with anyone,” Amal said. “Just don’t put another name over mine until we understand what has happened.” She drew her hand back. “That’s all I want today.”

لَمْ تَعْرِفْ لِينَا بِمَاذَا تُجِيبُ. كَانَتْ خَدِيجَةُ قَدْ أَعْطَتْهَا الْعَمَلَ، وَكَانَتْ أَمَلُ تَقِفُ أَمَامَهَا وَتَطْلُبُ شَيْئًا يَبْدُو بَسِيطًا. لَمْ تَكُنْ لِينَا تَعْرِفُ مَنْ قَالَ الْحَقَّ.

Lina did not know how to reply. Khadija had given her the job, while Amal stood before her asking for something that seemed simple. Lina did not know who was telling the truth.

قَالَتْ أَخِيرًا: «لَنْ أَكْتُبَ اسْمًا جَدِيدًا هَذِهِ السَّاعَةَ. وَلَكِنِّي أَحْتَاجُ إِلَى أَنْ أَفْهَمَ». هَزَّتْ أَمَلُ رَأْسَهَا. «هَذَا حَسَنٌ. أَنَا لَا أَطْلُبُ أَكْثَرَ مِنْ ذَلِكَ».

At last she said, “I won’t paint a new name right now. But I need to understand.” Amal nodded. “Good. I’m not asking for more than that.”

أَخَذَتْ أَمَلُ كُوبَ الشَّايِ، ثُمَّ عَادَتْ إِلَى عَرَبَتِهَا. قَبْلَ أَنْ تَذْهَبَ، رَفَعَتْ مَرْطَبَانًا صَغِيرًا وَقَالَتْ لِصَبَاحَ: «هَذَا لَكِ. مِنَ الْمُخَلَّلِ الَّذِي تُحِبِّينَهُ».

Amal took her tea, then returned to her cart. Before leaving, she lifted a small jar and said to Sabah, “This is for you. It’s the pickle you like.”

قَالَتْ صَبَاحُ: «وَأَنَا لَمْ أَدْفَعْ لَكِ ثَمَنَ آخِرِ مَرْطَبَانٍ بَعْدُ». أَجَابَتْ أَمَلُ: «إِذًا صَارَ عِنْدَكِ مَرْطَبَانَانِ لَمْ تَدْفَعِي ثَمَنَهُمَا». ضَحِكَتْ صَبَاحُ، وَابْتَسَمَتْ لِينَا رَغْمَ تَعَبِهَا.

“And I still haven’t paid you for the last jar,” Sabah said. “Then you now have two jars you haven’t paid for,” Amal replied. Sabah laughed, and Lina smiled despite her weariness.

بَعْدَ أَنْ ذَهَبَتْ أَمَلُ، نَظَرَتْ صَبَاحُ إِلَى ابْنَتِهَا. لَمْ تَقُلْ لَهَا مَا يَجِبُ أَنْ تَفْعَلَهُ. سَأَلَتْ فَقَطْ: «هَلْ تَرَكْتِ الشَّايَ يَبْرُدُ مَرَّةً أُخْرَى؟»

After Amal left, Sabah looked at her daughter. She did not tell her what to do. She only asked, “Have you let your tea go cold again?”

عَادَتْ لِينَا إِلَى عَمَلِهَا. وَضَعَتْ لَوْحَةَ أَمَلَ بِجَانِبِ الْحَائِطِ، بَعِيدًا عَنِ اللَّوْحَاتِ الَّتِي سَتَذْهَبُ إِلَى السُّوقِ الْجَدِيدِ. لَمْ تَمْسَحِ الِاسْمَ، وَلَمْ تَكْتُبْ فَوْقَهُ اسْمَ حَامِدٍ.

Lina went back to work. She set Amal’s sign beside the wall, away from the signs that would go to the new market. She did not erase the name or paint Hamid’s over it.

ثُمَّ غَسَلَتْ فُرْشَاتَهَا فِي كُوبِ مَاءٍ نَظِيفٍ. كَانَ هَذَا عَمَلًا تَعْرِفُهُ جَيِّدًا. أَمَّا الْكَلَامُ مَعَ النَّاسِ عَنْ وُعُودِهِمْ، فَلَمْ يَكُنْ سَهْلًا عَلَيْهَا. كَانَتْ تَتَمَنَّى أَنْ يَكُونَ كُلُّ شَيْءٍ بِوُضُوحِ الْحُرُوفِ عَلَى الْخَشَبِ.

Then she washed her brush in a cup of clean water. That was work she knew well. Talking with people about their promises was not so easy for her. She wished everything could be as clear as letters on wood.

عِنْدَ الظُّهْرِ، مَرَّتْ خَدِيجَةُ أَمَامَ مَكَانِهَا مَرَّةً أُخْرَى. رَفَعَتْ يَدَهَا لِتُسَلِّمَ، ثُمَّ أَشَارَتْ إِلَى اللَّوْحَاتِ الْجَاهِزَةِ. رَفَعَتْ لِينَا يَدَهَا أَيْضًا، وَلَكِنَّهَا لَمْ تَقُلْ شَيْئًا عَنْ لَوْحَةِ الْبَابِ السَّادِسِ.

At noon, Khadija passed her counter again. She raised a hand in greeting and pointed toward the finished signs. Lina raised her hand too, but said nothing about the sign for Door Six.

كَانَتْ تَسْتَطِيعُ أَنْ تَسْأَلَ خَدِيجَةَ هُنَاكَ. لَكِنَّ السُّوقَ كَانَ مَلِيئًا بِالنَّاسِ، وَلَمْ تُرِدْ أَنْ تَبْدَأَ خِلَافًا أَمَامَهُمْ. لَمْ تَكُنْ تَعْرِفُ الْقِصَّةَ كُلَّهَا بَعْدُ. وَكَانَ ذَلِكَ سَبَبًا كَافِيًا لِتَنْتَظِرَ.

She could have asked Khadija there and then. But the market was crowded, and she did not want to begin an argument in front of everyone. She did not yet know the whole story. That was reason enough to wait.

فَتَحَتْ لِينَا دَفْتَرَهَا وَنَظَرَتْ إِلَى الْأَسْمَاءِ الَّتِي كَتَبَتْهَا صَبَاحًا. أَمَامَ الرَّقْمِ السَّادِسِ كَانَ اسْمُ حَامِدٍ، وَأَمَامَ الرَّقْمِ التَّاسِعِ اسْمُ أَمَلَ. وَفِي الْجَانِبِ الْآخَرِ مِنَ الْمَكَانِ، بَقِيَتْ لَوْحَةُ أَمَلَ الْقَدِيمَةُ تَنْتَظِرُ.

Lina opened her notebook and looked at the names she had written that morning. Hamid’s name stood beside number Six and Amal’s beside number Nine. On the other side of the stall, Amal’s old sign remained waiting.

أَغْلَقَتِ الدَّفْتَرَ، وَقَالَتْ لِنَفْسِهَا: «غَدًا سَأَسْأَلُ أَمَلَ عَمَّا حَدَثَ». ثُمَّ نَظَرَتْ إِلَى اللَّوْحَةِ مَرَّةً أَخِيرَةً. لَمْ يَكُنْ هُنَاكَ إِلَّا بَابٌ وَاحِدٌ، وَلَكِنْ كَانَ لَهُ اسْمَانِ.

She closed the notebook and told herself, “Tomorrow I’ll ask Amal what happened.” Then she looked at the sign once more. There was only one door, but it had two names.