Undertow
My Mail is Forwarded Here
- Messages
- 3,126
- Location
- Des Moines, IA, US
The Break
He drew the swatch to his face, closed his eyes and inhaled. The faint smell of lilacs and sweat had once permeated the lemon yellow fabric. A warm summer breeze brushed his skin, playfully gamboling through town, past the hardware store, the café, the cinema. His hands enveloped hers; her burning green eyes were like beacons now, their lips pressed together. His heart hung in the air, the moment passed, and then faded into a dream, a haze; another part of the world almost forgotten.
It was in these precious seconds, these Zen gifts of peace, that he was able to collect his spirit, steel his nerves and hold out – if not just one more minute, perhaps one more day.
A shell exploded miles away; a bridge fell, crumbling. With the rattling sound of machinegun fire from a distant plaza like a drummer beating a tin pan, he stuffed the memento back into his shirt pocket, picked up his rifle and fell in line.
He drew the swatch to his face, closed his eyes and inhaled. The faint smell of lilacs and sweat had once permeated the lemon yellow fabric. A warm summer breeze brushed his skin, playfully gamboling through town, past the hardware store, the café, the cinema. His hands enveloped hers; her burning green eyes were like beacons now, their lips pressed together. His heart hung in the air, the moment passed, and then faded into a dream, a haze; another part of the world almost forgotten.
It was in these precious seconds, these Zen gifts of peace, that he was able to collect his spirit, steel his nerves and hold out – if not just one more minute, perhaps one more day.
A shell exploded miles away; a bridge fell, crumbling. With the rattling sound of machinegun fire from a distant plaza like a drummer beating a tin pan, he stuffed the memento back into his shirt pocket, picked up his rifle and fell in line.