19 10 / 2014
Morning. Dark room. Alarm clock shows 5:00AM. Side-profile, her eyes open wide.
Bathroom. Medicine cabinet closes, her face is revealed. Close-up on eyes finishing up make-up with mascara. She’s humming a Fairouz song indistinctly.
Her room. Close up on right shoulder. Her white coat is pulled on in one swift move. She grabs the stethoscope from counter. Door shuts behind her as she leaves the house.
Her car. Focused on her right shoulder. She turns on the music. Focus shifts to the CD player and the rearview mirror, which has an Arabic nicknack hanging from it. The Fairouz song from earlier is playing. She’s humming along.
The hospital entrance. From behind, we watch her walking down a long hallway, stethoscope in hand.
The ICU. From behind, we see her in front of a computer, typing notes. He slides up next to her, in white coat and scrubs. He’s been there all night.
هو: يا صباح الخير
She’s still facing computer, typing notes. هي: يا صباح النور
هو: يا صباح الورد
She turns to look him in the eye. هي: يا صباح العسل
يا صباح القمر
يا صباح الهوى
He reaches out to touch a curl of her hair. يا صباح الشعر
He’s wearing glasses. She nods toward them. يا صباح النظارة
يا صباح الحلوة
She turns back toward the computer. يا صباح المجاملة
He turns to toward the counter as well. يا صباح الباردة
She giggles triumphantly. يا صباح القوية
يا صباح الضحكة
She turns back toward him and smiles warmly. يا صباح الابتسام
يا صباح الفرح
يا صباح الطيوب
يا صباح الخير
يا صباح الخيرين
Zoom out. They are gazing at one another.