The wind blows across my face as I sit in the cafĂ©, watching him. Nerves cloud his features as he fidgets with his beer, pulling at the label, running his thumb along the bottle’s lip. All the while, his gaze is intent on the random pedestrians walking up and down the street. He stares at them, one after another, expectant. Still he doesn’t see who he’s waiting for.
And he doesn’t see me.
I take a sip of my wine which is a welcome relief to the warm summer night in Sarajevo. If I had visited this date in this year as a vacation rather than an obligation, I might have enjoyed Bosnia in June. After all, tonight, everything is peaceful. No one can sense what I can. No one knows that tomorrow, a war will begin. Hopefully.
