Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
Dear people.
Please, would you proofread the fifth chapter of my short story:
Once, Murad told her that he was going back to his job again. "Finally!" she wanted to answer, but instead just smiled. It was almost two months since they had been together and she had become irritated having him in her flat all the time. He hardly visited his own mother these days, apparently he liked to be here and eat and drink without ever contributing with his own money. The only time he spent his money on her was when he bought her an ice cream when they walked the streets or a bouquet of flowers when he came back from the centre. "Let us see how long are you going to sponge off me?" she thought when he kissed her in her check like a cat showing affection to his owner.
On Sunday evening he shaved himself and sat the alarm clock for seven o'clock in the morning. They both woke up tired and drowsy. They made love until half past two in the night. Especially Murad was reluctant to leave behind him the cosy bed and Aisha's hot and sensual body. She herself was due to fly to Athens later the same morning. She kissed him in his forehead and wished him good luck. She watched through the window when his white Volvo was passing down the street and then turned to the left. The following mornings the same ritual repeated again and she was satisfied to see him going and coming back as all other men. However, one thing made her curious. He never talked about his job. Her all questions he answered with a short "yes" and "no" and skilfully dodged the traps she put for him. It was obvious she would never get any information out of him.
Aisha became suspicious. She had heard many stories about married men who pretended working as plumbers, carpenters or bricklayers, but instead of going to their jobs they would end up in the training camps for terrorists. The thought of Murad being one of them made her body shake with fear. Until she did prove for the court that she had nothing to do with him her life would be destroyed.
The last thing she wanted to see was the Swedish police cars around her doors and secret police officers turning her flat upside down and gathering evidence.
To be continued...
Please, would you proofread the fifth chapter of my short story:
Once, Murad told her that he was going back to his job again. "Finally!" she wanted to answer, but instead just smiled. It was almost two months since they had been together and she had become irritated having him in her flat all the time. He hardly visited his own mother these days, apparently he liked to be here and eat and drink without ever contributing with his own money. The only time he spent his money on her was when he bought her an ice cream when they walked the streets or a bouquet of flowers when he came back from the centre. "Let us see how long are you going to sponge off me?" she thought when he kissed her in her check like a cat showing affection to his owner.
On Sunday evening he shaved himself and sat the alarm clock for seven o'clock in the morning. They both woke up tired and drowsy. They made love until half past two in the night. Especially Murad was reluctant to leave behind him the cosy bed and Aisha's hot and sensual body. She herself was due to fly to Athens later the same morning. She kissed him in his forehead and wished him good luck. She watched through the window when his white Volvo was passing down the street and then turned to the left. The following mornings the same ritual repeated again and she was satisfied to see him going and coming back as all other men. However, one thing made her curious. He never talked about his job. Her all questions he answered with a short "yes" and "no" and skilfully dodged the traps she put for him. It was obvious she would never get any information out of him.
Aisha became suspicious. She had heard many stories about married men who pretended working as plumbers, carpenters or bricklayers, but instead of going to their jobs they would end up in the training camps for terrorists. The thought of Murad being one of them made her body shake with fear. Until she did prove for the court that she had nothing to do with him her life would be destroyed.
The last thing she wanted to see was the Swedish police cars around her doors and secret police officers turning her flat upside down and gathering evidence.
To be continued...
Last edited:
