The bombs fell like rain from the overcast sky above the Eastern Ukrainian border town of Ustalinsk.
The bombs fell like rain from the overcast sky above the Eastern Ukrainian border town of Ustalinsk rattling, shaking the streets, buildings, and people.
An old man sat on the front patio of a cafe sipping tea, the cafe sign hanging from a single hook, pockmarked by shrapnel and stray bullets. The place was empty. There was no food in the cooler at the counter, or on the shelves above, only tea, and tableware, some of the cups and plates cracked or broken. A few waiters still remained, standing, sitting, cleaning, smoking, waiting for time to pass and the rain to stop.
The man’s tired eyes drifted through the thick lenses of his rectangular glasses from the sky to the street before him, to the buildings around him, gray and sagging.
Another old man came walking down the street, short and stout in an ill-fitting black suit and trench coat and a black fedora atop his gray head of hair, all gathered beneath an…