This is the first part of my short story "A stroll." I would be grateful if someone could proofread it.
It was very cold outside when Enver and I decided to take a stroll that winter evening. Before we left our warm flat, I looked at the thermometer on the balcony and it was showing -22 degrees Celsius. I had never before experienced such temperatures and I asked myself what kind of life I would have if I stayed in this little town for the rest of my life and be forced to spend these long bitter winters without much sun year after year. We had been here for some weeks, sent from another refugee camp in the south to wait for our asylum applications to be processed.
Both Enver and I came from the same town in Bosnia, although we did not know each other until we became roommates as refugees in Sweden. We were living in the three-room flat together with two other men from our country, who were in the same situation as ourselves. We all were deeply affected by the war in Bosnia, which was still going on and which took lives of hundreds of the innocents every day. None of us was interested in what was going on in Sweden, which gave us shelter, and instead we would listen to the news about the war or watch TV bringing live pictures of destruction and killing in our homeland.
Enver and I lived like brothers and we understood each other as if we had spent years in each other’s company. We shared the same worries. He had left his mother and sister in Bosnia and I my father and my aunt in our house and we did not know if we would ever going to see them alive again.
What use would we have of the Swedish residence permit if our families were dead and we not even knew where they had been buried? Before the war started Enver had been working as a machinist in a state owned factory and had a good job, but when the Serbian National Party took control over our hometown all the Muslims had been sacked and he found himself in a difficult situation, especially when both his mother and his sister lost their jobs. That was only the first phase in the ethnic cleansing, which soon would take place all over Bosnia.
Last edited by Bassim; 26-Nov-2010 at 12:48.
Regarding the previous sentence, I wonder could I write instead:
He had left his mother and his sister in their flat and I, my father and my aunt in our house in Bosnia and we did not know if we would ever see them alive again.