The Ageless

By Alexi LeFevre

A disillusioned diplomat is lost between his morals in an Afghan town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexi LeFevre
• Release date: Jan 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310708756

Alexi LeFevre

Alexi LeFevre is an author and avid traveler. He has previously served as a United States Air Force Officer and worked at an international affairs think tank. He has published in several online and print journals. To learn more about the author visit alexilefevre.com.

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The Ageless

By Alexi LeFevre

Copyright © 2010 Alexi LeFevre

Who do you suppose has it easier? Ones with religion or just taking it straight? It comforts them very much but we know there is no thing to fear. It is only missing it that’s bad. Dying is only bad when it takes a long time and hurts so much that it humiliates you. That is where you have all the luck, see? You don’t have any of that.

- Robert Jordan

In the south of the country like this, there was always a way to take shelter from the midday sun. The door to the small mud hut was a short rectangle cutaway covered by a thin white muslin cloth. The American slid it aside and found no one. The Afghan followed in behind him. The single room was bare with a bare earth floor and a table in the center where two chairs stood at odd angles. The single window was also a square cut into the packed earthen wall. From where the American sat, he could see a small stamp of Afghan countryside through it, the grim wind-blown sand of the earth in a flat terrain that gently rose towards where a small hill stood, faded and white in the heat. Atop the hill were two pistachio trees, nearly ready for harvesting with their fruit ripe from the long desert summer, which was slowly coming to an end. His clothes stuck to his skin.

What time does it start?

Evening. Not until evening. The others must arrive. Day is too hot.

The American nods. And how long does it last?

The Afghan says, Not long. He looks at the American. You have not been before?

No. Never.

First time?

Yes.

The Afghan nods and grunts. He sits easily and has a rifle across his legs. His hands caress it and wander gently along its hot skin as he speaks. The American wonders what the noise that the Afghan made means.

How does it take you? The heat?

It’s not bad. Where I come from in America, the weather can be like this.

Where do you come from?

Arizona.

I don’t know Arizona. I know New York. You’ve been there?

Yes, once. It’s a very big city.

And Washington, too. I have heard of Washington. The Afghan takes from his pocket a wrinkled plastic bag of several American cigarettes. They are old and it’s clear he smokes them rarely, for they are hard to come by. He doesn’t offer one and puts the bag away and smokes