Last night was one of those nights when I started everything way too late, and thus by the time I got to Flash Fiction Friday on my to-do list I was far too tired to actually do it. Almost made the same mistake again today, but I caught myself in time (yay me!).
Here’s a random little thing based on something I dreamed last night:
She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, and glanced impatiently over towards the door. What was taking them so long? Every time it was the same damned thing, these supposed professionals finding some excuse to linger just a few more minutes before the mission started. As if a few minutes would change anything. All it meant was it would be a few minutes longer before they were back at the base, safe.
Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her fatigues crinkled, chafed against her skin. Too much starch, again. Made her feel like she was doing this for the first time, and it wasn’t a good feeling.
Five minutes past, seven, nine. As ten drew near, she reached for the comms that were clipped to her front just below her shoulder. In the same moment she pushed the button down, the door opened and the squad filed out of it and approached to pile into the van. She let go of the button and grabbed the steering wheel. It was go-time.
Sometimes it’s nice to just write something random like this. Improvised, without a particular point. I was feeling a bit meh earlier and writing this actually helped. Good night, gang!
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