That same day, just before going to bed, Habib walked from his bedroom, next to the study, to his grandparents' master bedroom, across the unlit hallway, to bid them goodnight. The door was ajar and the night table light beside his grandfather's bed was on. From the narrow gap between the door jamb and the bedroom door, Habib saw his grandfather, in his pyjamas, sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes closed. He stood quietly at the door and waited for his grandfather to open his eyes. But Fikri, still close-eyed, turned his head once to the right then to the left. Next, he held his right hand before his forehead, and then he covered his eyes with it. And still with his eyes closed, he placed the palm of his hand before his chest, then the back of his hand behind his back. Subsequently, he passed his hand over his lips, one lip at a time, and finally over his throat—all in the space of a few minutes, with a short pause between each move. When he finished, he turned off the light, and quietly slipped under the bed cover, careful not to wake his wife from her slumber.