Breakfast

“What are you doing up so early,” she asked. She played with her ponytail, her eyes focused down at the table.

“It’s too hot. I couldn’t sleep,” I said. It was before seven, and I’d already been awake and sweating for two hours.

She continued twisting her hair light-brown as she scrolled through something on her phone. She sighed and looked up.

“I don’t want to go back to the army.”

I reached for my glass of water on the table. It was warm, even with a few pieces of ice in it. The rest of the flat was still asleep. Outside on the street, the day had already started.

I whispered, “why?

She tilted her head sideways. “Because it’s too fucking hot to be in this uniform.”

We both grinned, slightly. Though, maybe, for her it was more of a grimace.

A siren went of somewhere in the distance. I reached for my cup of water again. Then I went to take in the clothes from the balcony that I’d left drying overnight.

“Goodbye.”

I turned around her see her in her olive green uniform, half-through the open doorway.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s