I looked up from my book, my attention distracted by the tense atmosphere from the front seat, and I saw Samir talking in earnest while my parents listened tersely. What were they talking about? I inched closer to listen.
"I had decided to infiltrate the protesters, so I snuck towards Tarir square, trying to stay out of sight of the police. I was almost there when I saw the flames coming from the direction of the Egyptian museum, and suddenly my plan was forgotten in the face of this new catastrophe; Was the museum on fire? I dashed towards it, feeling the air get hotter with every step, until I was at the museum and, with a breath of relief saw that it was not the museum that was on fire, but the building next to it."
"My relief was short-lived, though, and was replaced with dread as I realized that the museum was in terrible danger - the fire would soon spread, and even if it didn't there were no guards protecting it- anyone could damage it or steal the ancient artifacts. So back out into the rioting streets I went, to search desperately for something that could put out the fire, and recruiting anyone I could find to protect the museum."
As Samir continued, I looked closely at his face, wondering what this man had experienced and why. Did he not fear for his life? Or if not for his own life, the fact that sacrificing his life would mean abandoning his family? It was just a museum, I thought to myself. Containing artifacts, things. Certainly no-one would risk their life to protect objects. But Samir went on, never mentioning concern for his safety, just that of the museums and the relics inside it. There must have been something I was missing.
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