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.
And so was he.
As was he.
They were waiting.
And oh, so was he.
And sadly, she was waiting, too.
