There's a man in our house.

His sole aim in life was to live longer to read more. It was one day during Ramadan, 5:00 PM, an hour and a half before Iftar. He was lying in his bed in one of the rooms at Qasr El Eyni Hospital, a private room guarded by two policemen, each holding a rifle. He sat up in bed and began gathering the scattered daily newspapers around him, arranging them one on top of the other. For the thousandth time, his eyes fell upon the bold red headlines published at the top of the first page: "Indictment in the case of..." He didn't finish reading the bold line; instead, he quickly folded the newspaper as he had folded others. He stood up and walked to the faucet installed on one side of the room. He began washing his face, bowing his head and letting the water pour over it forcefully, as if trying to extinguish a fire raging within. Then he returned, burying his face in the towel, as if he didn't want to see this fire, didn't want to see anything. He began to change his clothes, taking off his pajamas and putting on a shirt.