David smiled, and it was like watching the sunrise over the Hudson River in March, when the light struck the first buds of spring and the last snow melted into a dizzying spray of rainbows, and the air was bursting with potential, with everything that could ever happen in that one golden ray of perfect light. Forget that they were freezing, standing in dust and rock and dry snow, with wind whistling through the shattered mudbricks of their camp at the base of Bin Laden’s last stand in the mountains. Kris would remember this moment, this smile, this kiss, this feeling, for the rest of his days.
