She said, "Anything"

These two bottles were left by the wall of one of the first mosques we pass on our way just as SK and I are starting our morning walk.

And there is history in them. Small and insignificant next to the history of ancient walls, but history nonetheless.

A young couple sat there on those stairs, after the sun had set, ate with their families, and then met at the agreed time, at the entrance of one of the busiest streets in Cairo. He asked her what she wanted to drink. She said, "Anything." He found her a spot on the crowded steps and told her to wait there while he ran across the street, forced his way through the crowds at the small kiosk selling cold drinks and bags of chips, and ran back to her, drinks in hand.

He sat next to her, as close as he could in public, but never as close as he would have liked. Or as she would have, not that she would admit it. And they talked, and laughed, and sipped slowly, watching people go by, disappearing into the mouth of the market.

Before they knew it, hours had passed, and it was time for her to rush home, before her parents started calling her on her mobile, asking her where she was. These questions were better left unanswered in her father's eyes.

She set her drink down carefully, he tossed his next to it, the bottle landing on its side. Both unfinished.