I also noticed she could dance. This wasn't just some hoe that could shake her booty; she had moves. She confessed she danced growing up. I tried to k...ep up but I simply had nothing. I was stone cold sober and felt awkward trying to burn up the dance floor. I spent more time talking to Dalia's roommate while she danced it up. She was the center of our attention, and she could have gone home with any guy that night. In the end, I drove her and her roommate home.Her roommate went to bed, leaving. Then, ever so slowly a doubt of uncertainty crept from the inner most recesses of his mind into his conscious- ness. Finally, he summoned the courage to speak. “Who are you with, Fatima? Surely not Mohammed’s Will?” “You really don’t remember me, do you?” she sighed. Ashamedly, he gazed into her eyes, until it struck him. “Of course! Fatima! You were in the archaeology class that I taught at Harvard as a guest lecturer last year! My God! You were an ace. More

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