Literature
One Day...
They were worlds apart, they shouldve never even crossed paths, yet they did; and neither regretted it in the slightest. Though they were separated in age, one a boy just barely a man and the other a man, whom had seen and done many things, had many scars and many stories to tell of them. Sometimes they would just sit together the younger assassin in the his arms, gently stroking his calloused fingers through Mikas dark hair, telling him stories of the past, this time was not one of them.
One hot, humid, midsummers day around sunset, the young assassin came back into the Damascus bureau, and greeted the Rafik with a few whi