Love in the Valley
Love in the Valley It was mid-December. The clock had just struck 4:30 in the evening. Up in the hills of Islamabad, the sun was setting, wrapped in a veil of fog. The cold was intensifying. The mist was rolling in. At the Valley, cafeteria was built high on the hillside, the chill felt a little less biting. A fire had been lit to warm the air. People were bundled in thick, warm clothes. Steam rose from the dishes placed on the tables. He sat alone. Dressed in a business suit with a muffler wrapped tightly around his neck. His laptop lay open on the table. He would type something on the laptop, then immediately turn his attention to his phone. He was completely absorbed in his work with deep focus. By age, he looked about twenty-five or twenty-six. Because of the cold, he kept scrunching his nose every now and then. Tucked into his waistband beneath his coat was a pistol, secured with a belt. “Where should I sit? There’s not a single empty table here either,” a girl’s voice...