“I didn’t get coffee for a decade,” says Pops as he drinks the coffee. 

No candle is lit and both our curtains are opened. A safe village now. Al, the baker, pushes his bread cart around Sagu District. We see him by the opened window at my bedside and sip our brewed coffee from Willow. 

“Are you going horse riding with that girl next door?” Pops asks again, pulling his chair into the table for better posture.  

I nod, standing, ...