The internet in his apartment was temperamental, a phantom that flickered with the wind. He watched the transfer rate: 112 KB/s... 89 KB/s... 12 KB/s.

Omar’s ritual was the same every night: a bowl of lukewarm zaatar, a flickering laptop screen, and the relentless, slow-moving green bar of a progress loader.

Omar groaned, hitting 'Resume' with the desperation of a man performing CPR. The fan in his laptop whirred into a high-pitched whine. Suddenly, the red flipped back to green. The percentages ticked upward like a countdown to a launch. 98%... 99%... Complete.