Hot latte (Steven over here!) (open)
Pual walked in the Qwerty Cafe shaking the rain off his head. It was near 9:00 at night, and the plane flight back from Britian had been exausting to the fact he wasn't going home for the summer. There was a quiet atmosphere as he was waiting for Steven to show up for the cup of coffee Pual had requested in his call. Where the hell is he?, he thought, but he waited, still thinking about his poor grandmother, dying of cancer on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean Well life is just as harsh as it was in iraq, he thought. Pual was still thinkng about his men being slaughtered left and right under the heavy fire in the desert. The Major that was in charge had lost his mind and blew himself to rags with a hand grenade. The horror in the men's voice was the voice of terror that had haunted Pual's dreams for the last four years. Pual sighed then noticed just how quiet it was in the cafe Hurry up Steve! Pual thought, wondering what was holding his freind.