Another day. Everyday the same day. I walk across the parking lot, past the bunkers, past the little shops. There’s no line for coffee today. As soon as I enter the shop, the squirrelly little guy behind the counter is calling out my order to his crew before I even say a word. I don’t have the heart to change my order today.
Heading back, I stop in the parking lot and spend the last few minutes before the Ed Center opens talking with Fatmir as he finishes up a cigarette and coffee. We don’t talk about anything important, and somehow, that’s important.
Just another day. Everyday the same day. Only today, I can see the mountains; still snow-covered in mid-April. For a moment, as I breathe in the crisp morning air, I forget about the planes taking off, the helicopters over head, the armored vehicles rolling up and down the road, the soldiers, the enemy. I forget about the war, though everything around me is here to remind me of it.
Except for the mountains.