[Scene: A cozy tea shop in Riyadh. Faisal and Majid are seated at a small table, sipping mint tea. A pair of scissors lies on the table next to a notebook.]
Majid (alarmed):
Ya Allah, Faisal! Why are you playing with the scissors like that? You opened and closed them three times without cutting anything!
Faisal (grinning):
Relax, ya Majid. I was just fidgeting. What’s the big deal?
Majid (wide-eyed):
You don’t know? That’s very bad luck! My grandmother used to say it invites quarrels into the house. If you open and close scissors without cutting anything, arguments will follow like flies to dates.
Faisal (chuckling):
Flies to dates, huh? That’s poetic. But Majid, you know I love your stories, but scientifically speaking, scissors are just tools. They don’t have mystical powers.
Majid (defensive):
That’s what you say. But last year, remember when my cousin Reem did this at my house? Opened scissors for no reason. The next week, my uncle and aunt had a huge fight about the color of the new curtains. Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Faisal:
A fight over curtain colors? Sounds like they needed better taste, not better luck.
Majid:
You laugh now, but I’m telling you, these old beliefs come from somewhere. Maybe they knew things back then that science can’t explain.
Faisal:
Or maybe they didn’t have Google. Look, Majid, our brains are wired to find patterns. It’s called confirmation bias. You remember the scissors and the fight because they’re dramatic. But what about the dozens of times you opened and closed scissors and nothing happened?
Majid (pausing):
Hmm… maybe. But there’s no harm in being cautious, right? Better safe than sorry.
Faisal:
Fair point. But imagine if we applied that logic to everything. “Don’t open an umbrella indoors, or your camel will run away.” “Don’t whistle at night, or the jinn will come for tea.” We’d be living in fear of kitchen utensils and air!
Majid (laughing):
True, but still… scissors are sharp. Maybe it’s symbolic. Like cutting through relationships or peace?
Faisal:
Interesting thought. That’s more psychology than superstition. Symbols can affect how people feel. But we should still ask: does the belief help or hold us back?
Majid:
Okay, Mr. Engineer. Let me ask you this. If your mom told you not to play with scissors like that, would you still do it?
Faisal (smiling):
Of course not! Out of respect, not fear. If someone’s uncomfortable, I stop. But that doesn’t mean I believe the object is cursed.
Majid:
Hmm. So you’re saying… respect the feeling, question the logic?
Faisal:
Exactly. Tradition has value, but truth doesn’t fear questions. And hey—if scissors really had supernatural power, don’t you think the Ministry of Education would’ve banned them by now?
Majid (grinning):
Or taxed them!
Faisal:
Right? “Opening Fee – 5 Riyals. Closing Fee – 10 Riyals with optional blessing.”
[Both laugh.]
Majid:
Okay, you got me thinking. Maybe not every old belief has to rule my life. But I’ll still keep scissors away from idle hands… just in case.
Faisal:
Deal. And I’ll stop playing with them when you’re around. Out of respect—and to save us both from cursed curtains.
Majid (raising his tea):
To open minds and closed scissors.
Faisal (clinking his glass):
And friendship sharper than steel.
[Fade out with both laughing, the scissors untouched on the table, as the call to prayer echoes softly outside.]

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