The hamza and the ‛ayn were driven to a meeting hall for an appointment of some kind.
“You two twins?” the cabbie asked. His right wrist rested on the top of the steering wheel.
“No,” said the hamza, with a roll of its eye.
The ‛ayn showed more compassion. “That’s a common question, sir, and I don’t blame you for thinking so. We look very much alike!”
The cabbie looked at them again in the rearview mirror. They hung like commas in the air above the back seat, black silouhettes against the bright rear window.
“Here we are.”
The hamza grunted.
“Thank you sir!” said the ‛ayn.
They jumped out of the taxi. The hamza bounced once. The ‛ayn, never able to supress the glee of using its foot like a pogo stick, bounced three times. They glided towards the hall for their appointment.
This was a silly writing exercise where I took a snippet from The Chicago Manual of Style about hamzas (’) and ‛ayns (‛) — “The hamza (’) and the ‛ayn (‛)…” — and meshed it with a snippet from The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff — “…were driven to a meeting hall for an appointment of some kind” — to create something new.