In mid-November, inside a two-bedroom apartment in Ferndale, Michigan, a caucasian female is rushing to put on a hijab. She is in her mid-twenties and dressed in full Muslim garb. Her name is Ayeesha. Ayeesha is 5ft, 4 inches in height, and at least 183 pounds. She just moved to her apartment a week ago, as there are unpacked boxes. Once she was ready, she grabbed a garment consisting of an expensive abaya, hijab, and shoes.
Just as Ayeesha was about to leave, the doorbell rings. She was confused about who could be knocking on her door. She just moved into the apartment and barely had time to meet people in the area. She went to the door and looked through the peephole. A look of frustration befell her face. She opens the door.
“Jeffery, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see you!”
“How did you find out where I lived?”
“I have my ways,” Jeffery boasts.
“Why are you here?”
“The last time we talked, you said you were moving out. I didn’t think you were going to do it.”
“Because you never listen to me.”
“We could have worked things out.”
“No, we could not. I have tried working it out with you for months. I just realized that we were not meant to be together.”
“We can at least be civil and be friends.”
“We can be civil, but I cannot be friends with you.”
“What brought on that idea?”
“I don’t have time for this. I have a wedding to go to?”
“You’re getting married? We just broke up three months ago.”
Ayeesha was getting annoyed. Jeffery was dragging out the conversation.
“Jeffery, I am not getting married. I am going to a friend’s wedding. Now, if you excuse me.”
Ayeesha takes a step back and closes the door in Jeffery’s face. She goes out the back door and quickly drives away in her car.