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  • Writer's pictureThe Channel


Updated: Mar 10

Short Story by Liyaan Khoso

Photography by Skyla Hillan-Schunemann

“Who do you live with?”

I asked, inquisitively, suspecting that he lived alone.

“Oh, me, myself, and my dog.” He chuckled.

“Oh ok, so not gonna happen across any aunties then.”

“Nope, not at all.”

We pulled into a pretty fucking nice house. And I’ve been to a lot of nice houses lately, in

Pakistan. A really Godly house for a 31 year old to live in.

“Say hello to new friend.” He goaded his husky gently. I came through, mildly, his dog

approached me. I swept my hand out, he smelt it, calmly, then licked it a few times. Walked

away and stared at a piece of wall for 15 minutes. His dog seemed to be disassociating, literally.

All the other dogs I’ve met in Pakistan have just been overexcited, energetic and jumpy. Pretty

invasive dogs but.. This one I liked having around.

I stood by the dining table, observing the room. It was clean, grey marbled, and had fresh

designs. Bright couches, patterned pillows. He walked into a room and opened up his laptop.

Technically he was working today and seeing me at the same time, multitasking. I didn’t know

if this was a regular thing that he did or not.

“You just gonna stand there?” He asked.

“Was waiting for a house tour.” I mentioned.

He smiled, deliciously. I don’t know what it is about him that I just really like.. Well, I do know,

I’ll list them. He’s smart, incredibly smart, and turned on to every detail. He can do 10 things at

once, and do those 10 things well. It’s almost superhuman. His intelligence also makes him fun,

and funny to be around. He is stylish, and sweeps the gender binary out the window, flexing

between the two spheres with refreshing ease.

His room was spacious, his desk in front of a large window with high tall black curtains. The

curtains had tigers and leaves patterned onto them. At his desk he had DJ stacks and various

laptops for his music stuff.

“This is my guest room, just recently had it redone.”

His home has obviously been very well considered. The art is beautiful, kooky and in all the

right places. The furniture is unique, preloved, and well-loved. He led me out onto the balcony

sort of area, where he had Sindhi style chairs (colorful, poofy tribal things) and empty alcohol

bottles lined up at the sides with fairy lights in them. There were crawlers beginning to grow as


We went back to his room.

“Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea, wine, beer, me?” He suggested with a smirk.

I giggled. “Wine, maybe?”

“Wine it is, I’ve recently got this new South African bottle that I’ve been meaning to try..”

My phone began to ring, I sighed, picked it up. My auntie. I told her I was at his place with a

group of friends, about to drink wine and play cards. She didn’t think that was a good idea, that

my father would not be happy to hear it. I should be back in 30-40 minutes, she’d keep him

entertained and unstressed. I promised I wouldn’t drink any wine. I appreciated the way she had

communicated it to me, it made sense and made me feel like an equal. But..

“Is that enough?” He poured a tiny glass. I nodded.

I said about how I had to go soon, he nodded understandingly.

We sat on different couches, gazing at each other, drinking.

“Ooh! It’s good.” He decided.

Undoubtedly, it was, it tasted more like sangria than anything else.

After that tiny glass, I could feel my drunkenness. My loosened inhibitions. Things just felt.. It

just felt easy to get carried away here. To feel comfortable here. I literally felt as if I could have

moved in and lived there happily. I felt so good in his space.

“I’m feeling it already, a bit, can you tell?”

“Really! Well, I guess, you’re smiling more.”

I put on my shoes and he started packing things away at his desk, shrugging my large white coat


“Cutie.” He looked up at me, smiling, his eyes were glittering.

I shimmied for him, feeling cutesy.

He left the room to sort this thing or the other, and I looked in one of his many mirrors. He


“This mirror is really well placed. This is a good spot.” I watched tipsy me spell out.

“Yeah, I have many mirrors actually, you know.. You’re really small, like, really small.” He

laughed, coming up close behind me. He placed his hand on my cheek.

“Your skin is so soft..” He felt over my face and slipped his hand up the back of my neck behind

my hair, grasping at my roots and pulling me towards him.

It felt so familiar and warm and shockingly good. It was intensely pleasing. So much so that I

pushed him away.

If I stayed in that warmth and heat for even a minute longer it would have been ruinous.

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