Cafes form the social heart of Pristina, the capital of Kosovo province. Like everything else, they are segregated: Serbs have their cafes, Albanians have theirs. And these days, the Albanian cafes are packed with young people like Jehona, not celebrating exactly but more blowing off steam, soothing their nerves and waiting for something to happen.

``Everyone is going out,'' says Jehona, 25, her brown eyes shining as she lights a cigarette and waits for her beer. ``It's crazy maybe they're drinking to forget, or going out to see friends. Everyone is waiting for D-day.''

They hope NATO will pressure President Slobodan Milosevic into giving independence to Kosovo, a southernprovince in the Serbian republic that dominates Yugoslavia. They also hope that if NATO drops bombs, Serbs won't attack them in the streets. There are talks around town that Serbs will seek revenge on Albanians the instant NATO acts.

Serb cafe owner Predrag Ilic unfolds a large black leather wallet, takes out a pistol and lays it on the glossy, chrome-rimmed bar. Next, he reaches behind the bar and pulls out a grenade, lays it next to the gun.

Sure, he has Albanian neighbours. Plenty of Serbs in Pristina do. They can't help it. More Serbs live here than anywhere else in Kosovo -- 60,000 out of the population of 200,000. The two groups exist on top of each other in the congested, hilly streets. But the mingling stops there.

Separate bars. Separate stores. Separate schools. Albanians and Serbs even have separate taxi services. What would happen if an Albanian, even one of his neighbours, stepped into Ilic's cafe? He draws a finger across his neck.

Walk up the stairs in an elementary school in the heartof town, and you hit an orange brick wall. It divides the Albanian children on the first floor from the Serb children on the second.

Not every school has a wall, but every school is divided. Serbs on one floor, Albanians on another. Separate entrances. Separate curricula.

Serb children learn the Cyrillic alphabet in classrooms decorated with portraits of Serb authors and Serb war heroes. Albanians have the same, but from their culture.

Speaking separate languages, worshipping separate gods, Serbs are orthodox Christian, Albanians are predominately Muslim. The two sides have virtually nothing in common. They do share one thing: each side believes Kosovo province is their ancestral land.

``It's not a healthy environment in the least, but somehow we have to live together ... together, but apart,'' says a 46-year-old Serb math teacher who asked to remain anonymous for fear of getting into trouble with school authorities. She remembers when it wasn't like this. She used to teach the children together,Serbs and Albanians in the same room. She used to drink coffee with the Albanian teachers in the break room, sometimes even have them over for dinner.

That was before 1989, when Milosevic revoked Kosovo's autonomy. Ethnic Albanians, who make up 90 per cent of the population, started talking about independence. The separate societies moved apart, and the anger between the two sides grew hotter and hotter until it exploded into war. And now NATO threats, designed to force Milosevic to give the Albanians back their autonomy. It is all too much.

``We were mixed before,'' she says, shaking her head. ``But after all this, I don't know if we could be together again.''