Old familiar
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He was dreaming, looking from above on the same old scenes.
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This one was recurring ever since he was in his teens. Rows and rows of people ready for war. He began to feel that creeping sensation of angst and stress. He didn’t have his weapon with him. That was always the case. Everyone else was ready and the offensive was fast approaching. He was like a scared rat, moving feverishly from the barracks to the logistics building, hoping to get help from someone, anyone.
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The weapons of this war were water guns.
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"Go inside that building" someone pointed, "Your aunt is there and she will set you up. Grab me some guns as well would you?"
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Of course, he said. Now it was not only about him, it was about his fellow soldiers as well, and he was born to please. His aunt wasn’t there but a certain woman was. She said "I don’t have guns but I have these tubes filled with water". He grabbed three of them – one for him, another one for his mate and an extra one. "Ready to die for the cause, eh?" the woman said with a comforting smile.
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"Yes." I replied.
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He used to feel good at his old job, at least right until the end, as he was a veteran there and he did his job well. Some people even looked up to him. A sense of belonging is a powerful thing. Now a certain boss from his old job appeared and had her hands full with folders and binders. She dropped some money bills on the floor and he helped her pick them up. He felt good doing that. He felt that he belonged.
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It was the deepest of nights. The immense crowd was dotted with lights.
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All were ready, and for the most part, he was as well.
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Death is not an easy pill to swallow.
