He walked to the closet where Maryam had kept her clothes. He opened the wide door and found all of her clothes missing. He rushed to the baby Imam’... room. The baby’s clothing and a few of his stuffed animals were also missing. The phone rang. ‘It must be Maryam,’ he thought. He ran to pick it up before the answering machine played.“Maryam? Maryam where the hell are you?” he shouted.“Assalaamualaiykum. It is Vasilla. Good you are home.”“Vasilla? Oh yes, Vasilla. What can I help you with?”“I. . I guess. "I still wasn't able to express myself coherently. "Have you tried? "What? She's going into details now? When will this torture end? You have to picture this: I am standing in the bathtub naked, with my rigid penis only inches away from my mother's face who's washing my legs, discussing with her my masturbation habits. It has to be a dream. But is it a bad one?"Mom! I don't feel very comfortable talking to you about that! " Of course you don't. Who else are you going to talk about it. More

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