Gurgle of a shisha catches him on the cusp of sleep.
Sweet smelling tobacco smoke casts him briefly adrift in time.
Ahmed? No. Long since gone.
Kahil. Hazy smile in the cafe's smoke and dim
lighting. Stretched out lazily in a deep, plush chair, heavy eyelids
betraying his exhaustion.
"Tired, Faris?"
Just a smile in reply. Tired, but from a good
mission. No death on either side. Wish they were all that way - but
that's a dream. He calls for more coffee. They should go home to
sleep, but for now - here, this. Coffee, sweet smoke, Kahil.
Who needs dreams?
end