Through the tinted windows of the bus, I could imagine that I was staring out through snow fields instead of the infinite desert.
I was ill-prepared to endure the August heat, which was upwards of 115 degrees. I tried to rest and began to visualize walking among the ruins while pane after pane of beige emptiness passed the window. Suddenly, an interruption; a sign for the lone crossroads between Bagdad and Amman. And just as quickly, it was behind me and I was back to the stillness.
Click to read the rest of Dave's short story at Impose.