Dinner at Darukh Second School had been reheated once again.
Lylla came out of the classroom carrying the pot, drawing it closer to her chest as she passed the stairwell.
Several straw mats had already been laid beneath the steps. A man lay on his side, leaving the spot by the wall for the child in his arms, but his feet stuck out into the passage. Lylla stepped over them, but her skirt still caught on his shoe.
The man hurriedly drew his legs back.
"Is there any left?"
Lylla lifted the lid to let him look.
Some broth remained at the bottom of the pot, but nearly all the beans had been scooped out.
The man held out his bowl. After taking it back, he brought it to the lips of the child beside him first.
The child had been asleep. Woken by the rim of the bowl, he drank two mouthfuls with his eyes closed, then buried his face in his father's clothes again.
Lylla steadied the bowl as it started to tip.
"Slowly."
The trucks in the playground still had not been fully unloaded.
The dismantled tents lay at the bottom of the truck beds, covered with tarps. Whenever someone said they might be able to leave soon, everyone loaded the things they had just taken down back onto the trucks.
Eventually, they grew thoroughly tired of moving everything.
Whatever could stay on the trucks stayed there.
But they still needed mats to sleep on and cups to drink from. People could be ready to leave at any moment, but life still had to be lived, little by little.
"Lylla."
Her grandfather called from the other end of the corridor.
She handed the pot to someone beside her and went over with the empty bowl.
Hamid, the