The Last Message

Two weeks went by, then three. Then one sunny morning, Huda shouted from the garden so loudly that she woke the whole house:

"Omar! Omar! Come quick!"

Omar ran out barefoot, his glasses crooked on his face. When he got there, he stood and stared.

Around the palm tree, tiny green shoots had pushed up through the soil, as thin as threads: one, two, five, nine! And the olive sapling had grown two shiny new leaves.

Huda clapped and danced around them. "They've grown! The future trees have grown!"

That night, Omar went up to the attic as usual, without expecting anything. He sat beside the silent radio and told it, "Thank you anyway."

Suddenly the needle blazed bright blue, brighter than ever before. And Salma's voice came through, clear as a bell, as if she were sitting right next to him: