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They climb a stairway encased in thick-paneled glass windows, emerge on the second floor, and head down a high-ceilinged hallway with orange-painted walls. The Bosnian doctor unlocks a door, pressing down on its tapered silver handle. It opens into a private office, a small room with white tiled walls, green chairs, a bed, sink, and bookcase. Eric and the others seat themselves on the chairs, and the Bosnian doctor sits down on his bed, beneath the window. When the car reached the bridge, a soldier carrying an automatic weapon joined the other soldier on the hood. The car crossed and entered a zone controlled by Serbs. The men fell silent. Akif, lying on the back seat, quietly removed a pistol from his belt, checked it to see if it was loaded, and handed it to Ilijaz.“Doctor, if something happens, take me first and then do whatever you can.” In addition to tracking my difficulties in the notebook, I became temporarily obsessed with thanking the various people who had sent me flowers. All sorts of arrangements had been arriving in my room: white daffodils, yellow tulips, pink roses, orange sunflowers, and pink and white lilies (my favorite). I begged my father to help make a list of the people to send thank-you notes once I felt better. When I got too tired to continue writing, my father wrote out some of the names and short thank-you notes for me. But I never got the opportunity to send them out. Because things would get worse before they would get better.
