He's still alive.
He sits there, waiting for dawn.
Golan Heights, Lake Tiberias Floating Bridge
Lieutenant Alvarez hasn't slept all night.
He sits behind a folding table, with three cups of coffee in front of him, all cold. Hassan's, Assad's, those who died in Aleppo. Three cups, three directions.
At the eastern end of the bridge, dawn is breaking.
In the distance, in the direction of Aleppo, the gunfire has stopped. The artillery has stopped. The rumble of tank engines has also stopped. It's very quiet, so quiet it's terrifying.
He picks up his cup of cold coffee, takes a sip. Bitter, cold, like medicine.
Footsteps come from the eastern end of the bridge. Not refugees, not soldiers, it's a person.
Assad.
