Pharai
I woke when it was still dark.
Not the soft dark of Cairo nights, not city dark. Desert dark that had weight. The floor to ceiling windows showed nothing but black glass and beyond that the Zagros, a darker black against black. Only past the farthest ridge there was a thin line, a little light, pale blue and bruised purple, like the sky was deciding whether to be born again. The room was cold without sun.
