Nazareth dreamt an old dream. A golden moon sitting with the stars high above the shack house that always smelled like human waste and body odor and sometimes with the stench of blood. The cool dark desert was like a barren endless sea. Her dream always felt so real she could feel the dry light breeze brush up on her skin.

There was her sister Jericho peering out the cracked window of the shack house with a scowl so fierce it appeared she had sharp teeth like a lioness. She was so little back then it was difficult to believe she grew to be a little over six foot.

Outside in front of her was her other sister, the middle child of their family, buried in the sand with only her head poking out. Nazareth never stepped forward to see her face. She knew it was Zorah from how beautiful and voluminous her hair was. Define coils that shone under the golden moonlight. Her hair was dark, decorated with yellow adey abeba, flaring out on the dry landscape like a stream.

Sometimes there would be rough hands gripping and pawing her body. On her developing hips and breasts, touching her uncomfortably, handling her then throwing her away. Most of the time though, Nazareth felt warm and gentle hands on her shoulders. She enjoyed being seen as a delicate princess, especially in the eyes and arms of her love. She braided strands of gold together.

Then Nazareth received a mother's hug. Her pockets were filled with sweet dates.

There were a few times she heard voices. Soft and motherly, the other voice was masculine and regretful.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Nazareth always joined their song of apologies.

Nazareth woke up to a nudge on her thigh. Jericho towered over her in nightclothes too small but perfect for the summer heat. Jericho was too tall for her liking. It was always a horrifying sight to see a giant peer down at her so early in the morning.

"So, the dead have awoken." Jericho said.

Nazareth shoved her foot off of her thigh, flopping her body pillow over her face. "Away with you." Her voice was muffled.

Jericho nudged her thigh with a foot again.

"Go away!" Nazareth shot up and shoved the foot off again.

Jericho's scoffy laugh received a drowsy glare.

"I made breakfast."

"Are pigs flying today?"

"Shut up and come downstairs." Jericho answered. She thankfully left her sisters' bedroom.

Nazareth's bedroom was the lovechild of a mystical library and anime convention wrapped up in a blanket of too many pastels.

Nazareth rose out of her bed, stretched until her bones popped satisfyingly. She headed downstairs as the scent of onions and familiar spices uplifted her tired mood.

Breakfast smelled just like mom's cooking. Every morning before selling her pottery to a merchant, mom cooked them fir-fir and made coffee for her and dad. She held Jericho, who was a toddler at the time and loved sucking her thumb, in one arm and skillfully worked around the kitchen. Shredding the leftover injera, adding the niter kibbeh and berbere, sometimes shiro wat if it was also a leftover then stir-frying on the iron griddle. Dad would be in his weaving room on his sewing machine putting on the final touches on altar cloths for a Coptic Orthodox Church before double checking on lesson plans for his first-grade class. Nazareth and Zorah would be in their school uniforms watching a morning show on the small family TV.

Nazareth and Jericho were now older, living in London with their own home. Some of Jericho's cacti and succulents there and Nazareth's figurines here as there was a wall dedicated to handmade sword replicas.

Their Shabbat set-up was on the entryway table below a painting of burning candles with the Torah. Their actual Torah was with the silvery candlesticks and Kiddush cup. At both ends of the table were vases of pink asters. Next to the door was their mezuzah.

Stumbling through the living room, Nazareth saw her two cats perched on their feeding shelves. Queen Tiye was beautiful. Black Persian, slim, and sleek. Her coat was black as obsidian with striking gold eyes and a mind sharp as a tack. Prince Mamoru was enormous, full of fat and covered in thick fur. He was a Maine Coon with a black and white coat that made him look like he was wearing a fancy little tuxedo. Around his blue eyes was the outline of a sharp white mask. He was her knight in furry armor. Her precious pets devoured their breakfast of raw chicken liver and salmon. Nazareth scratched behind their ears and necks; their silver bells tinkled.

Mamoru purred like a motorboat. He nipped her hand with affection. Tiye was solely focused on her meal.

Nazareth sat at the kitchen island across from her sister. There was a plate of fir-fir for her with a handle-less demitasse cup of coffee, white steam curled in the air. Jericho's hair was wrapped in a bandana like hers, she sipped her morning tea, relaxed, typing away on her laptop.

Out of their family, Jericho was the lightest in skin tone. Nazareth had warm golden-brown skin compared to her sister. Jericho had their dad's long face, while hers was more oval. Their eyes were the same. Big and round, dark brown with an upturned tilt and long lashes. But Nazareth had two identical beauty marks under her eyes. Under Jericho's bandana was black and short, defined coils as Nazareth's hair was just as black, brushing against her shoulders, voluminous with tight curls like corkscrews.

No one said a word. The first real action she did all morning was taking a sip of her coffee. Perfect with the right dollop of butter. She was fully awake and alive.

"Thanks, for all of this." Nazareth said softly.

Jericho waved her off. "It's nothing."

Jericho came home around four thirty in the morning, right after the after-party of a gig she had at a small venue. She was running on only about two and half hours of sleep.

It was mostly Nazareth who did the cooking and she never minded. Although once in a blue moon, out of her tired stupor and her general dislike of doing anything on the hot stove, Jericho cooked for the both of them. Always putting more food on Nazareth's plate.

"What's the plan today?" Nazareth asked, taking a bite of her fir-fir. "We're almost done with organizing the event. Just halfway done with a few final touches. Do you think you can make it?"

Jericho paused her typing for a second. "It's in two weeks, yeah? The 17th?"

Nazareth nodded, spinning her fork. Jericho was usually either too tired from a late night or too busy because of her music. There were only a few times she came to the museum for an event hosted by the Folklore Department - the department Nazareth worked in. Nazareth can count on both of her hands how many times she has seen Jericho on stage, compared to how many times Jericho came to her job.

She didn't want to sound selfish. The event will last for a week. But plans change and anything can happen within a week. It has happened before. Even though Nazareth would be upset, she always understood. She was so proud of Jericho for being able to be on stage performing like she dreamed since she was a little girl. She just wanted Jericho to see her in action at the job she took pride in.

Jericho did a few more types on her laptop. "I think I'm free. Maybe? It'll last for a week, yeah? I'll see if I can come. If not, I'll tell you. 'Kay?"

Nazareth knew she shouldn't keep her hopes too high up for the possibility of Jericho not coming, but she nodded anyway.

After breakfast, she was in the bathroom, stepping out of the shower. Nazareth wiped away the steam off of the mirror and stared at herself. She repeated the words on her post-it notes stuck on the corner. It was a single action her therapist told her to do to boost up her self-confidence before starting the day.

A Yellow post-it note written in red: I deserve nice things.

A Blue post-it note written in black: I'm enough.

A Pink post-it note written in blue: I'm worthy.

Her outfit of this particular sweltering day was a pale pink button-up shirt dress with an ivory belt. She tied her corkscrew-y hair into a decent bun and clipped on her yellow adey abeba hairpin. Her Nintendo Switch was thrown in her satchel purse. She had a tin of homemade spiced crescent biscuits drizzled in chocolate for her department head Bahir. He loves her biscuits, always asking her to bake him some. He always hid them in his desk whenever his wife came by his office.

On the fireplace were little cacti and a worn out, wrinkled photograph of their family in a turquoise frame. In the picture were their parents, Nazareth when she was a child, Jericho when she was a toddler and Zorah when she was out of toddlerhood, but still younger than Nazareth. Aside from Jericho being confused in the picture, the rest of them were smiling. They were standing beside a stream in the countryside. Only a very few knew they were going to a hidden synagogue way outside of the city. At first, they traveled by a Jeep then traveled the rest of the way on foot.

Also on the fireplace was the one copy of a children's book, President Izara, written and illustrated by Kassahun Kojo, her and Jericho's dad.

Nazareth pressed a kiss on her fingertips and tapped the photo. "I'll be back home later." She said in a small, but loving tone.

She petted her cats and grabbed her house keys. Nazareth yelled, "Bye, Jellybean! Have a nice day! Love you!"

When she opened the front door, she heard Jericho shout, "Yeah, you too, Turtleface!"

The August heat coating her skin. She waved at her neighbors with a polite smile as she strolled, weaving through the crowd of tourists. The cluster of sweaty bodies fused with the high morning temperature made her sigh in relief when she entered Sheba's Palace.

It was simplistic and cozy like a sweet grandmother's home but draped in burgundy and brown with flecks of gold. She smelled the roasted coffee beans dancing with the familiar comfy scents of frankincense and myrrh.

A flock of tourists were inside, crowding around one of the pretty workers who was explaining the history and significance of the coffee ceremony. The hostess sat on a short stool, surrounded by long blades of grass and colorful flowers, burning incense to keep the evil spirits away. The incense was frankincense and myrrh.

The tourists filmed and snapped pictures with their phones as the regulars bought their coffees and treats, enjoying themselves in light conversations.

Nazareth smiled at Zoya. The shop worker was brewing with a French Press behind the counter.

"Morning, Zoya." Nazareth greeted. "How're you today?"

The woman with light brown skin and dyed honey curls just shrugged, rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. "Ugh, same old shit. Wake up, come here...and do nothing else. Yourself?"

"My coworkers and I are almost done organizing the Arabian Nights Event we're having at the museum," Nazareth counted with her fingers, raising another one. "One of my books is coming out next month, you remember the one I told you about-"

"Yeah, I remember you going on in great detail about your Transformers book." Zoya interrupted.

Nazareth shook her head, "It's Mecha. And yeah, Transformers are technically Mecha too, but I'm talking more about like Evangelion, Code Geass, you know?"

"No, I don't know." Zoya admitted. "But I'll pretend that I do, so we move on in this conversation."

Nazareth turned; nobody was behind her. The tourists on the other side of the shop were being served coffee with popcorn and peanuts, chortling and giggling.

"I have another book coming out, somewhere in March..."

Nazareth and Zoya continued their chatter about everything mundane and the explanation of Evangelion. Or in Zoya's words, "... the show about psychologically messed up teenagers fighting weird holy aliens and being taken care of by equally psychologically messed up adults."

Nazareth can't even argue against that description.

Some of the tourists were leaving, others decided to stay and enjoy other snacks. Zoya reached over to the square register. "What do you want today?"

Nazareth told Zoya her work husbands' order. "And I'll have a spris. Extra mango."

"Coming right up." Zoya's nimble fingers were fast as lightning, typing in the orders.

More tourists left the shop and a few more customers came in. Another employee helped them as Zoya gave Nazareth her orders and slipped in a tin of looseleaf black spice tea.

Before Nazareth could protest, the other woman waved her hand dismissively.

"You're one of our favorite customers and I like you." Zoya said. "So, you get free stuff. Not all the time though. Just say thank you and leave."

After a long second of silence of a staring battle, Nazareth sighed. "Thank you, Zoya. Hope you have a nice day."

"Yeah, you too, Naz." She grumbled.

Nazareth sauntered to the nearby bus stop, wiping sweat off her brow. She read the ad that was on the side of the red double decker bus.

GRC: Reuniting with Your Better Half.

Nazareth frowned.

It was still so wild that millions, maybe even billions of people disappeared by turning into dust not even a full decade ago. People on the streets, in their cars, even in the safety of their own homes, just all of a sudden vanished.

Nazareth was in Chongqing when it happened. She was traveling China with her good friend, Daniella Li. DanDan was the one behind the wheel of their rental car when all of a sudden, her body slowly started to disintegrate into dust.

Her and DanDan were screaming their heads off, crying and panicking. Nazareth launched herself to the driver's seat, gripping the wheel so hard, one of her nails broke. She scraped a wayward car that flew off of the highway.

Daniella was completely gone, and all Nazareth heard were inhumane cries she didn't even know existed.

Swerving the wheel, several cars on the road stopped, immediately crashing into each other. Nazareth slammed into one of the cars, smashing her head into the wheel.

She blacked out.

It wasn't until a few hours later she woke up. The sun was setting into a purple hue, the street was quiet, and the side of Nazareth's head was caked with drying blood. She stumbled out of the car, tripping over her feet, and saw lines of vehicles, disjointed and scattered. Her wobbly knees gave out. She isekai-ed to an apocalyptic world.

Then she called Jericho. Whatever happened seemed to have affected people by the hundreds, no, thousands. Nazareth was in one of the most populated cities in China. It should've been bursting with life and color, but there was only silence and gray. The only noise she could hear was her own shaky breathing.

Nazareth sung praises and tears when she heard Jericho's voice on the other end. Her little sister was in hysterics, screaming into the phone, blubbering that she saw all of the patrons at the venue disappear in swirls of dust during her performance. Nazareth only told her to run home with no other plans completely lost.

The next call she made was her parents. Nazareth and Jericho were able to find them with the help of social media. It was, at that point, thirteen years since they last saw them. When there was no answer, even calling multiple times with a shivering body and tears in her eyes, Nazareth never heard her parents' voices.

Nazareth wailed on that street for what felt like eternity. She wiped her face and marched up the lonely road. She was one of the few lucky ones to return home to London. She told Jericho what happened to DanDan and the phone call with their parents.

Jericho refused to speak for weeks. She snuck into Nazareth's bed like she did when she was just a girl and snuggled with her.

Nazareth didn't want to be alone either.

It was five years later when the world broke again. Everybody who vanished returned. The empty streets and homes were suddenly crowded. Nazareth was at home when she heard a crash and then screaming. Rushing outside, she saw one of her old neighbors who turned to dust reappear and a driver hitting her with his car. Old Mrs. Elizabeth Havisham popped back into existence and a second later went flying.

The driver was ashen faced when he scrambled out of his car to check on her. Mrs. Havisham's limbs were bent in odd angles as she twitched on the road. The driver was just as flabbergasted as Nazareth.

Mrs. Havisham never went back home.

Nazareth received a call from a frantic DanDan, wondering where she was and what was happening. Everything was happening too fast to comprehend again.

Luckily, DanDan came back to London after some months of living in a refugee camp, something Nazareth and Jericho sympathized with. Passports, social security, more paperwork. DanDan was born in China but lived in London for the majority of her life. She frothed at the mouth, ranting about how frustrating it was to prove her British citizenship and how she wasn't an illegal alien.

When she was able to come back, her house was sold to a random surviving couple and didn't get it back even after a court battle everybody could tell was rushed. The courts had thousands of similar disputes and solved them like they were meals on a speedy conveyor belt. Come in, fifteen minutes in front of the judge, then leave. DanDan had to rebuild her life while staying with the Kassahuns'. All of her belongings were thrown away, even rough drafts of her sequel novel. She attended therapy meant for the victims of the Blip.

Even after two years of coming back, DanDan was still anxious behind the wheel, frightened that she might turn to dust again.

Nazareth and Jericho searched high and low for their parents, involving immigration even more than before. Before the Blip, the sisters were trying to send for their parents to come to the United Kingdom. They were patient as there were others on the list, but their hopes were extremely high.

Then the Blip happened and just like the countless bodies, everything turned to ash. Five years of not hearing her parents after thirteen years of separation, only to have two, almost three, years of being pushed way down on the list of immigration. The whole process was washed away, because Britain had to focus on retrieving their own citizens first. There were still hundreds of British people in refugee camps waiting to come home.

It was selfish, but Nazareth still visits the immigration office for her case, hoping that some miracle would happen. Like her parents' names moving from the bottom to the top of the list, but so far, there was no miracle.

She didn't want Juri Arisugawa to be right about there being no such things as miracles.

The bus stopped near the museum in Bloomsbury. The English words on the glossy banners were written in Arabic calligraphy style. There was a three horned, yellow-eyed, green-skinned Djinn on the upper left-hand corner as Sinbad the Sailor was on the lower right.

Nazareth strode in the museum, welcoming patrons with a polite smile. She saw one of her co-workers hunched over the security room's front desk. J.B., dressed smartly in his uniform, and as always was paying more attention to his phone than the droves of people coming in and out.

There was a brief moment of him glancing up to check if there was anything happening, he did a double take of noticing Nazareth.

He straightened his posture and smoothed out his clothes, slicking back a side of his brown hair. J.B. leaned on his side with his elbow propped up on the desk.

"Hey, Naz, how's it going?" He asked in a way that was supposed to be suave.

Nazareth smiled, a droplet of sweat falling beside her brow. His face became darker than her pale pink dress.

"Oh, you know." Nazareth said breezily. "Same old, same old." She pulled out his usual order of black spiced tea and a breakfast sandwich. "What're you watching this time?"

J.B.'s eyes glinted mischievously. "Guess."

Nazareth tucked in her bottom lip underneath her upper lip. Jericho always said she looked like a turtle. She doesn't see it.

"I'm guessing...manatees this time?" Her answer sounded like she was questioning him instead.

J.B. shook his head with a tsk. "Sorry, Naz." He turned over his phone and showed her a video of a baby white harp seal dragging themselves through the snow, letting out little nyehs, sniffing out for their mother.

Nazareth's eyes shone. "That's actually pretty cute. I was hoping that it was manatees though. They're my favorite sea animal."

"That's so?" J.B. crooned. "You know they have them at the aquarium..."

Nazareth froze. She said softly, "J.B., I -"

He raised his hands up to make her pause. "Can I at least ask first, before you give me an answer?"

"Okay..."

"Do you want to go out with me?"

"J.B., you know I see you as one of my work spouses, but I don't like you romantically. I'm sorry, but no."

He nodded like he expected the outcome. "It was worth a shot. We're still work spouses, right?"

Nazareth's smile was sympathetic. "The best."

He grinned but it was obvious he was trying to hide how dejected he felt. "Thanks for tea and stuff, Naz." He unwrapped his breakfast sandwich, took a bite, and left to watch the monitors. She lingered on him a second longer before leaving.

She was near the gift shop when someone caught her eye.

Nazareth didn't have the pleasure of officially introducing herself to the new hire for the gift shop. She saw him during his training days, the days when her and her department were receiving a bunch of shipments. She just hoped that Donna wasn't too, to put nicely, prickly with him.

She saw him straightening out the stuffies on the shelves and candy baskets on the counter.

He was taller than her, maybe about seven inches, with olive-toned skin, lovely dark eyes with a hint of exhaustion underneath but still filled with brightness. He had a boyish look to him as his messy hair was like his eyes, dark with curls.

His navy-blue button-up had a unique design of golden Egyptian hieroglyphs and deities. His shirt shimmered every time he moved. His sleeves were short, reaching his elbows, displaying his surprisingly muscular forearms. Nazareth stared at the man's arms for a second too long.

The man was mumbling to himself, crouched down digging through the insides of the counter. The tall stack of boxes was blocking his vision when he rose up with a box cutter. He moved the top box and jumped a little in the air. Nazareth stood in front of him.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Nazareth said. "I didn't mean to scare you." She glanced at the name tag on his shirt pocket. His name is Steven. "I just wanted to introduce myself properly since you're new."

Steven calmed down. "Sorry that I was a little jumpy. I just didn't see you."

"No, it's fine. It's my fault. I should've given you a warning instead of just popping out of nowhere." She held out a hand. "I'm Nazareth by the way. Nazareth Kassahun."

He shook her hand, gentle yet firm. He smiled. "I'm Steven. Steven Grant."

"I know." She said, pointing. "It's on your name tag."

He looked down and picked up his shirt pocket with his thumb and forefinger. "Right! Of course." Then he realized his hand was still touching Nazareth's hand and she was touching his. Calloused, Nazareth thought as they finally pulled apart.

Her cheeks burned. She was sure he did too from the way his eyes widened, stumbling apologies. Nazareth told him reassurances and her own apologies.

The inventory's door shot open, and Donna Kraft briskly stomped out, her blonde hair bounced rhythmically with every step she took. She saw Nazareth then narrowed her eyes at Steven.

"Stevie, am I paying you to flirt?" She scowled.

"It's Steven." He spoke. Nazareth heard a bit of an exhausted annoyance in his voice. "I'm Steven and the director pays me, not you."

Nazareth's eyes widened. So, there is fire under those nerves.

Donna sneered, "Don't get cheeky. It's not too early to get rid of you. Finish unboxing and leave people alone unless they're buying something." Her heels clicked loudly as she strode away.

Steven looked hurt. He pushed up on the box cutter and opened a package.

"Hey," Nazareth said softly. "Don't listen to her. She's not the...gentlest of people. I still want to get to know you. Wanna join me for lunch?"

"I don't want to intrude-"

"You won't." Nazareth interrupted. Steven's brows pinched, still unsure. "I promise you, Steven. You won't be a bother."

He was quiet for a second. "If you're sure...where do you want to meet?"

"I have an office in the Folklore Department. It's the fifth door on the right. I'll see you then?"

"Yeah, uh, you will." He looked so shocked.

Was Donna not the only one around here who wasn't kind to him? Was her work spouse rude to him too?

Steven continued, "I'm vegan by the way. If that causes anything-"

Nazareth shook her head, "It's fine. Most of the restaurants I order from have vegan options anyway. It's nice to switch up once in a while. Remember, the fifth door on the left. Folklore Department."

"I'll remember."

If nobody else was going to be kind to Steven, then she will.

It was within the next few hours Nazareth was playing Coral!Island on her Switch, morning paperwork finished, and important emails received and sent. Her spris was halfway drunk, several water droplets dropped and pooled under the plastic cup. She carelessly spun in her chair. Her little farmer was smashing rocks with her pickaxe in a mine.

The insides of Nazareth's stomach went aflame when a thunderous knock shook her door. She headed to the door with caution, sliding away the frilly window curtain. The palest pair of blue eyes met her brown ones. She pushed the curtain back. Her body shook.

"I know you're in there." Jonah sang. She can already see him wearing his usual sharp smile that he always sent her. He looked like a viper, waiting for an opening to attack, and she was the prey.

He knocked again. She refused to answer the door. Jonah was the reason why she locked her office door in the first place. He always stared at her and followed her whenever he could without looking suspicious. Nazareth knew though.

Jonah Stills was a mammoth compared to her. Gigantic and muscular with hands the size of worn cricket batting mitts and coiffed brown hair combed perfectly with no strand out of place. He emanated a vibe that reminded her of a boy in her old University of Hertfordshire who holed himself in his dorm mixing chemicals and loved reading Mein Kampf. That boy refused to believe that her and her other Ethiopian friends were Jewish. "You're Black. You can't be a Jew." He said after overhearing her conversation with her friends about the upcoming Shabbat service on campus.

So, the moment when she met Jonah, the pit of her stomach burned. She covered her Star of David bracelet with her sleeve when she saw him eyeing it with an unreadable look on his face.

"I want you to join me for lunch, Naz." Jonah said.

You want me? You ask me first. Nazareth didn't say a word.

He knocked again. She sucked in a breath. She should call their department head, Bahir, but Jonah hasn't exactly done anything harmful to her. He was careful to not touch her and make their interactions look innocent. On the cameras he probably looked unthreatening. Even if she did report him, what would she say? "He scares me." "He gives me a bad vibe." "He's fucking creepy." It also didn't help that Jonah was well liked within the department. Even the posh Steph Brown who sneered at everybody, especially Nazareth, liked him.

Her department surprisingly liked her too, but would anybody believe her?

"Uh, hey mate, what're you doing?" It was Steven. Nazareth could cry.

There was a beat of silence. Then Jonah said, "Nothing you need to be concerned about." Then she heard his heavy footsteps stomp away from her door.

Nazareth threw the door open; Steven's fist was up in the air mid knock. She rushed him inside, shut her door and locked it. She breathed.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Steven."

"Was he bothering you?" Steven asked.

Nazareth didn't know what to say. Does she tell the truth and involve him? Would he care? Steven just started his job here. He hasn't established himself at the museum yet. Who will Bahir and the director believe? Jonah who worked in the department for years and is held in high regard or the new employee who already is seen as an annoyance to his manager Donna.

Besides, what can Steven report? Jonah was just knocking on her office door. It didn't sound horrifying.

Nazareth said, shaking her head, "No. He's just being annoying."

"Are you sure? Because he looked rather aggressive?"

"Yeah. It's nothing." Nazareth sent him a half smile. She was squeezing and releasing her fist. "Where do you want to order? Do you have any specifics?"

Steven stared at her with uncertainty. His lips twisted to a scowl and his eyes were hard. Just as fast as the look came, the look disappeared with a blink. Nazareth was baffled. Was he really that upset with her and trying to hide it?

"There's this burrito place I like. Las Iguanas." Steven answered like nothing happened. "But anything you want is fine with me."

"...I can order from there. Please take a seat." She gestured to the plush chair across from her desk. Whatever just happened she'll push that away for now.

Steven obeyed. There was a light conversation as she clicked in the orders. Veggie burritos for Steven and a Copacabana chicken burrito bowl for herself.

Steven idly looked around. Nazareth's office had pink aster flowers decorated with soft colors and a bookshelf beside the window. There was black book with golden lettering on the spine that took his interest.

Gods and Trade: Wakanda and Egypt, An Archaeological Study of Ancient Relations by Lashawna Robins.

"You have a copy of Wakanda and Egypt?! I've been trying to buy one for weeks!"

"Hum? Oh, yeah, my friend bought it for me as a gift." Nazareth explained, smiling at Steven's awe.

"You have a very good friend. Lucky you." He said cheekily. "May I see it?"

"Go ahead."

He took the book off the shelf and flipped through the glossy pages; eyes wide with excitement.

"I stand corrected. You have a great friend."

"You're lucky Daniella isn't here to hear that. Her head's big enough as it is." Nazareth snickered. "Do you like archaeology?"

"Yeah, well, if it's related to Ancient Egypt mostly. You can say I'm a little obsessed." He gave her a shy smile. "That's the reason why I even applied here. To be a tour guide." He lost his smile, his brown eyes drooped. "Donna said I wasn't a good fit."

Nazareth squeezed and relaxed her hand; she huffed through her nose. That was it. Steven was her friend now.

"What do you like about Egypt?" Nazareth asked, changing the conversation. "I love their folklore and social culture."

When his smile was brought back, Nazareth was content. "What's your favorite myth? Mine's the story of Isis and Osiris. The ultimate love story. Osiris's brother, Set or Seth, whichever you prefer, successfully killed him. Set measured Osiris's body while Osiris slept and built a box to trap him. At a banquet, Set said, "I'll give a wonderful prize to anyone who fits exactly into this chest." Guest after guests, nobody was able to fit inside the box. Nobody except Osiris. When he laid in the box, perfectly fitting inside, Set quickly nailed down the box and poured molten lead on the box. He threw the box down the Nile River. Osiris's wife, Isis, was determined to find him, to give him a proper burial. She was able to find him, but Set was crafty. He was able to chop up Osiris's body into fourteen pieces and fling them into the Nile. Isis wasn't deterred. With the help of her sister, Nephthys, Isis was able to find the pieces. All except for-"

"His phallus." Nazareth interrupted, his passion fueling her also as she beamed. "Isis couldn't find it because it was devoured by fish. So she made him an artificial one and breathed life into him. But even when she brought her husband back to life and had their child, Horus, Osiris still wasn't able to return to the world of the living. He became the God of the Underworld and the first mummy. All Egyptian burial customs can be traced back to this story. No one wanted to die outside of Egypt. There was something sacred about the soil, the magic. That's why Egypt never colonized. Isis wanted to bury her husband in Egypt, and she created him a penis, because of the belief that in order to enter into the Underworld, you must be complete. Embalmers made artificial body parts for limbs that were missing. Even the box Set crafted inspired Egyptian coffins, believing that the body would be better preserved in a special container."

Steven's brows were raised, impressed. "Well, somebody here knows the ins and outs of the story." He pointed at her. "You."

"I'm a Folklorist. It's in the job description." Nazareth smiled. "Folklore can tell us so much about a cultures' traditions. The why's and how's. My books themselves have not only fantasy inspired by history, but sprinkles of folklore."

"You also write books? Do you have any published?"

Nazareth's eyes sparkled as blabbed about her upcoming novel, Shoham's Gem. It was a Young Adult Sci-Fi Fantasy retelling of the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba. The Queen herself, Makeda, in the book is a young girl and only the Crown Princess. She joins a resistance group to reclaim her throne. The Mechas in the story are powered by jewels found in the Torah and controlled by Kabbalah symbols. Nazareth's main inspirations were Ethiopian history, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Code Geass.

Even better, Steven actually understood what she was spouting about. The anime. The jewels found in the Torah. Then he showed Nazareth his Star of David necklace. Him being vegan made more sense to her. It was easier than painstakingly trying to search for kosher. She just avoided eating pork in general and refused to combine meat with dairy.

Their lunch came and Steven promised to pay her back on his next check. Nazareth waved it off.

An hour had passed, and lunch was over, too soon for both their liking.

"You can have my number, Steven." Nazareth said as he was done eating.

Steven has that surprised look on his face again. "Really?"

Nazareth tightened her lip. She smiled. "Well, yeah. I keep all of my friends' numbers in my phone."

"I'm your friend?"

"Of course, you are."

They handed each other their phones. Nazareth saw that Steven didn't have any contacts in his. Her heart ached.

She tapped in her number quickly.