Hills of Ajlun

He stares blankly into the horizon, his gaze resting gently on the crests of the green hills. It is a lethargic gaze, which, without the hilltops to support it, would surely fall freely to the ground. In a similar manner, he was resting his chin on his hand, with his elbow propped against the hard wooden counter. Nearby was his fifth cup of tea today, it only being an hour or so past noon, with its fragrant, familiar steam wafting lazily above the rim of the glass. Despite his sloth, he will be sure to not let his tea get cold.