Once when Nero had been younger, he'd walked through the aftermath of mob justice. His eyes had stung from the acrid smoke of the rubber car tires the people had used to keep the fire going. He could barely breath, for days afterwards, he thought he had asthma. In all honesty, it was the bones, the charred flesh, and the people laughing an jeering at the thief. His breathe hitched every time he remembered how quickly the screams died down, he was constantly out of breathe.
So when a burly man wrapped his hand around his shoulder, he tried to muster any sort of resistance he could, but the world seemed separate from him, like there was a layer of cotton wrapped around him. Or perhaps, it was a fish tank, and he was perceiving the world from the inside. Amazingly, a laugh bubbled up from his belly.
His delirium passed what could have been seconds or hours later. And he found himself seated at a table, in front of a rapidly cooling cup of coffee, dark as night. "You back, dear" a kindly voice expressed, and he looked up into Sherry's face. He'd said hi once or twice, and seen her around the neighborhood. She smiled at everyone, always came to the parties, the births, the weddings. She knew whose husband had been seeing whose wife, and was there to mediate when it all went to shit. She knew them all.
He was in a cafe, a place he'd been more than once. He'd just brought the mug of coffee to his mouth when the elder man from before budged into the room. Sherry half heartedly tried to keep him back, whispering something in his ear. But he didn't relent, instead, he brought something from his pocket and showed it to her. He moved on to the seat opposite his, sat down with a heavy sigh.
"So", he started, "My daughter won't tell me exactly what happened, but from what I've seen I know you did something I may have no means to repay." He slid the object in his hands forward, and revealed a glimmering gold bangle as thick as a finger. "You can't say no! You saved my girl but there's more coming for you because of what you did, for all of us."
Nero took in the man. His eyes were tired, weary, but proud.
Sherry stepped forward from the counter, where she'd been watching her only two customers intensely. "You want to protect us" She asked pointedly, " or just the young pretty ones" Nero turned to her in shock, uncomprehending. "The taliban are the bosses here, and you've killed Fisi."
It sunk in like a stone. His mother had never accused Nero of being especially smart, but he was stubborn, and he was so tired of watching the world go around him. Sherry must have seen the change in his eyes, or his posture, because she cackled, excited, and slapped a bunch of money on the table. "you'll need this, find some of those idiots you hang around with, make sure the taliban can't reach us, or we're all dead."
She walked to the entrance of the dark cafe, and swung open the door. "Ok! he's ready!" A motley of men and women walked in, all seemingly nervous, he fought the urge to slump and shy away from the intention. He could have sworn he saw a glimmer of approval in sherry's eye as she ordered them into a line, "Don't be too mean now, If he can't keep them away we're all going to suffer".
They came one by one, earnestly dropping a share of whatever they had saved, or earned throughout the day. Each note, and coin added a weight on his shoulder he couldn't shift, but he was stubborn. The last trader, because that's what they all were, the owners of the shops that paid their constant tribute to the Taliban, whispered an earnest thanks that left him reeling.
He watched Sherry herd them out like unruly goats, some already had a list of complaints they insisted he had to handle.
He broke out in deep belly slapping laughter, and felt the tension drain from his chest to his belly, from something acute, to chronic, but manageable. He laughed to tears. He had never laughed so much.