Little Masoud pushed open the window, letting the hot wind rush in.
He first threw his backpack towards the opposite balcony, landing precisely by the clothes rack.
Then, enduring the searing pain in his right leg, he climbed onto the window ledge.
The wound tore open again, warm blood flowing down his calf.
Two meters was usually just an easy jump.
But now, the blood loss, pain, and adrenaline-induced exhaustion made this distance seem like a chasm.
He glanced back at the door.
The doorknob was being turned.
Jump.
In the moment his body was airborne, time seemed to slow down.
He saw the peeling blue paint on the opposite balcony railing, a child's shirt hanging on the clothesline, and an old man pushing a cart selling roasted chickpeas in the alley below.
Then his feet hit the ground, a massive impact spread through his body, and the sharp pain from his right leg wound almost made him kneel.
He staggered a few steps, grabbed the railing to steady himself.
