The Silence of Bombs in the Café Corner”

The café, located in a neglected corner of the city, was filled with people who had grown accustomed to living under the shadow of war, just as they had gotten used to drinking stale coffee and exchanging dull glances. Everyone passed their long days here, each carrying a silent sense of defeat in their hearts, but Adel seemed different. He expressed himself with a deep, quiet understanding, as though he grasped more than anyone else about the world around him.

Adel sat in his usual corner, moving his eyes from the newspaper to his cold coffee cup, relishing the silence that enveloped the café. He knew that no one here thought like he did. For him, this café was the only intellectual arena in a world consumed by war and destruction. The people here were simply an audience, while he alone was the intellectual.

From afar, Abu Hesham, a man who always busied himself with mundane talks about commodity prices and the scarcity of food, approached and sat at a nearby table. He always interrupted Adel whenever he began to think, as if reminding him of the daily struggles that never ceased. But Adel didn’t know how to escape from him, as if Abu Hesham were a shadow that followed him.

“How do you see things now, Professor Adel?” Abu Hesham asked, leaning toward him, attempting to show interest.

Adel looked at him with a steady gaze, still holding the newspaper carefully. He didn’t want to talk about the war anymore. These topics had already exhausted his mind, but he knew he had to respond. No one here approached the edge of understanding as he did.

“We are in chaos, as you see.” Adel replied, his words sounding like the usual refrain he spoke every day. “Everything is falling apart around us, and here we are, searching for redemption in questions that only bring more doubts.”

Abu Hesham waved his hand dismissively in the air. “But nothing changes, does it? Life stays the same. We just live day by day.”

Adel felt a sense of boredom, but he closed his eyes for a moment before responding, as though thoughts too complicated were piling up in his mind. “That’s the difference between you and us, Abu Hesham. You see life as a series of daily events, while I see that everything carries a deeper meaning. But the problem is that we can’t reach that meaning, because we are too occupied with what lies beyond it.”

At that moment, Abu Said, the café owner, entered. He moved through his life like the flowers people see on the roadside but never stop to notice. He was always smiling, even when he was close to breaking down, as though the smile was the last shred of dignity he had left in this place, which respected nothing but the simple act of staying alive.

“Any new news today, Professor Adel?” Abu Said asked, placing a coffee cup in front of him, smiling as he looked at Adel.

Adel smiled wryly as he lifted the newspaper slightly. “Yes, the same news we read yesterday. The same death, the same destruction, the same hope that dies with every dawn.”

“And does anyone here care?” Abu Said asked, raising an eyebrow as if making a playful remark, though he was really trying to lighten the mood. He knew that people here didn’t have the luxury of thinking about such things.

“No one cares, of course.” Adel answered, his eyes tired. “But that’s the challenge. To live amidst the ruin and still think. Even if our thoughts mean nothing, they are still part of our resistance.”

Just then, Hassan, the young man who always looked at Adel with admiration, even though he was far from understanding him, entered. Hassan was still struggling to find his place in this chaotic world, but he had only shallow thoughts about how to live. He came and sat next to Adel, ordering a coffee. He always seemed lost, unsure of what to do in a life that consumed him.

“You think about what others don’t, don’t you?” Hassan said, trying to connect with Adel.

Adel smiled coldly, then replied calmly, “Perhaps. But the truth is, I live in a world where thought doesn’t matter, only survival. We are here, resisting destruction with our minds, but destruction itself won’t care what we think. That’s the difference.”

The atmosphere grew heavy, and with every word Adel spoke, it carried a sense of deep despair. He no longer bothered trying to convince anyone, but speaking with these people filled the emptiness inside him. They were like ghosts moving from place to place, as if they were stealing time, while he sought meaning in the small things of life.

Over time, Adel began to feel that this café had become his great prison. He thought of leaving, but something strange held him back. Perhaps he was looking for something here, something he couldn’t explain. Or perhaps he thought that, though he seemed to be the intellectual in a world of the unthinking, he could not escape from his inner prison.

Would he stay in this café forever? Would he continue facing these ordinary faces, none of which possessed the depth of his thoughts? Or would he search for another place, far away from this intellectual deadlock? Had he really thought of leaving? Or was this café, in the end, his only place?