Today I'm thankful that I am alive,
in a country that is comparably safe compared to others.
I found out that the chef I used to work with got gunned down in his home country where political unrest is rampant. He didn't survive.
I remember his half smile, and the times I used to send him a glass of coke at the time when he broke his fast in Ramadhan. I would always end up being greeted with a plate of sweet cookies in the dumbwaiter in return. Little memories and meaningful conversations, I will always remember. Rest in peace, Khalid.
Life is too short.
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