Alright, another Wednesday, another quote. In this case, that means some flash fiction. So away we go. warning, this one will be a little dark.
His hands were bloody. Instinct was one thing, but hands were unsuited to holding liquid inside a broken vessel. And his vessel was very broken at the moment.
They were all around him now, and there was no escape – even if he could move to escape at more than a crawl. The spot he was in was under cover at least, and the hole he found himself in ensured the sniper wouldn’t get a second chance to make that good first impression.
His wallet was in his front pocket, which was lucky. He drew it out, fumbling it a little. Opening it revealed the thing he wanted to see. His blood smeared the plastic but the picture itself remained pristine.
She was ten and smiling, with a hat on and a piece of cake in front of her. A time before she hated him. A happier, simpler time, before he was wrong about everything, before the both left and he buried himself in his work. Tearing down regimes and hunting terrorists.
The grenade wasn’t a complete surprise, but he felt a surge of anger; it was a waste since all they had to do was wait, just a little bit! Were they really that impatient?
He felt the truth of it as the device went off; the old Bob Dylan quote: “Take care of your memories, for you cannot relive them.”
And that’s it. Sorry about any feels for this one. As always it’s for Silver threading at:
See you next week.