We sat in the cramped kitchen huddled around the stove the open oven door spreading a faint warmth that barely slid through the winter chill. The bare bulb in the ceiling strained and flickered fighting to hold as the generators were shut down, and darkness enveloped our small world. The sky was lit by the flares and the odor of exploding shells seeped through the towel sealed windows covered in the tattered bedsheets too thin to afford warmth. Ibrahim had been gone two weeks sneaking out of the city to join his brothers in Gorazde or Tuzla, or wherever it was that they were struggling to save what little was left. We huddled under the small table and dreamed of the taste of fresh bread, or even pork. In the morning he would run among the craters in the streets in search of the convoy and the handouts, which we would raven as the sun set over our war torn hell.
First published in Legal Studies Forum, Vol. XXX, No. 1 & 2, 2006
We agree we must learn the rules, to master the game, practice until the moves are second nature. We have three weeks to do all of this, then Place the game box back on the shelf to be discovered and taken down, opened spread out on the table, impatience controlling. Want to ensure that one of us will win, at least at first, though we know that in time she will handily best us as she always does. But just this once we hope to get a leg up on our eight-year-old granddaughter.