“You COULD HAVE TOLD ME,” Farid saidlater. The two ofus were lying next to each other on the straw mats Wahid’s wife had spread for us.“Told you what?”“Why you’ve come to Afghanistan.” His voice had lost the rough edge I’d heard in it since the moment I had met him. “You didn’t ask,” I said.“You should have told me.”“You didn’t ask.”He rolled to face me. Curled his arm under his head. “Maybe I will help you find this boy.”“Thank you, Farid,” I said.“It was wrong of me to assume.” I sighed. “Don’t worry. You were more right than you know.”HIS HANDS ARE TIED BEHIND HIM with roughly woven rope cutting through the flesh of his wrists. He is blindfolded with black cloth. He is kneeling on the street, on the edge of a gutter filled with still water, his head drooping between his shoulders. His knees roll on the hard ground and bleed through his pants as he rocks in prayer. It is late afternoon and his long shadow sways back and forth on the gravel. He is muttering something under his breath. I step closer. A thousand times over, he mutters. For you a thousand times over. Back and forth he rocks. He lifts his face. I see a faint scar above his upper are not alone.I see the barrel first. Then the man standing behind him. He is tall, dressed in a herringbone vest and a black turban. He looks down at the blindfolded man before him with eyes that show nothing but a vast, cavernous emptiness. He takes a step back and raises the barrel. Places it on the back of the kneeling man’s a moment, fading sunlight catches in the metal and twinkles. The rifle roars with a deafening crack.I follow the barrel on its upward arc. I see the face behind the plume of smoke swirling from the muzzle. I am the man in the herringbone vest.I woke up with a scream trapped in my throat. “你本來可以告訴我。”法裏德後來說。瓦希德的妻子替我們鋪好草蓆，我們兩個躺在一起。“告訴你什麼？”“你到阿富汗的原因。”他的聲音沒有了那種自遇到他以來一直聽到的鋒芒。 “你沒問。”我說。“你應該告訴我。”他翻過身，臉朝着我，屈手墊在頭下。“也許我會幫你找到這個男孩。”“謝謝你，法裏德。”我說。“我錯了，不該瞎猜。” 我嘆氣：“別煩了。你是對的，只是你不知道而已。”他雙手被綁在身後，粗粗的繩索勒進他的手腕，黑布矇住他的眼睛。他跪在街頭，跪在一溝死水邊上，他的頭耷拉在兩肩之間。他跪在堅硬的地面上，他禱告，身子搖晃，鮮血浸透了褲子。天色已近黃昏，他長長的身影在沙礫上來回晃動。他低聲說着什麼。我踏上前。千千萬萬遍，他低聲說，爲你，千千萬萬遍。他來回搖晃。他揚起臉，我看到上脣有道細微的疤痕。並非只有我們兩個。我先是看到槍管，接着看到站在他身後那個人。他很高，穿着人字型背心和黑色長袍。他低頭看着身前這個被矇住眼睛的男人，眼中只有無盡的空虛。他退後一步，舉起槍管，放在那個跪着的男人腦後。那時，黯淡的陽光照在那金屬上，閃耀着。 來複槍發出震耳欲聾的響聲。我順着槍管向上的弧形，看見槍口冒着嫋嫋煙霧，看見它後面那張臉。我就是那個穿着人字型背心的人。我驚醒，尖叫卡在喉嚨中。
