spot . I can barely take in a breath and blood is pounding through my ears , into my brain , making my face hot . I try to make myself as lifeless as possible , but my torso shakes with terror and horror at the prospect of being found . To my enormous relief , the three soldiers move on . I let out a long breath when I can no longer hear their footsteps , and quietly push the lid outward . The pale sky looks back at me , almost sad , and I shut my eyes before I crawl out of the basket , so I don ’ t need to look at the poor man ’ s body . My hands almost slip in the cold , thick liquid drenching the pavements . When I have the energy to stand again , I open my eyes gingerly and see what is left of my home .
The little shops and cafes along the street are full of smoke and fire ; although there is silence , screams echo along the paths where wrecked cars and bicycles lie . I smell the bittersweet stench of mildew mixed with grim defeat . Dried tracks of teardrops line my face ; and I barely can bring my eyes to see the other destruction . However , I feel an urge to look back . I slowly turn my head and expect those three battle-hardened soldiers holding a pistol to my head but instead I see a deserted alleyway . I don ’ t look at the body of the English man but stare at the brown wire basket no larger than a trashcan , and manage a weak smile . The basket saved a life . Mine .