It was Monday. It was Kabul.
A day, perhaps, like other Mondays. Except the Taliban came to town.
20 suicide bombers were said to be on the prowl.
I heard a rocket go by. I heard an explosion. I heard the sirens. I heard the helicopters.
Buildings burning. Smoke unfurling. Stomachs churning.
6 hours of fighting. 5 dead. 72 wounded.
But I was the lucky one. Because I would get on the plane and fly away. Leaving behind, the others.... waiting, waiting....
for the Taliban's next visit...
He was waiting.
As was he.