Train of ThoughtA Story by K.
Old white truck beds painted red.
Red because she thought that would make her happier. Happier because it wouldn't be white. White was bad because that was the color of the truck when he had it. Dusty ACU's hung far back in the closet. Far back because she couldn't stand to see them some days. Only some days because some days she was busy and didn't remember. Didn't remember that he died because she said he should re-up. She said to re-up because she knew he missed the weight of the gun in his hand. A folded, torn envelope stuck on the fridge with a magnet. Torn because it had been so long since she had gotten a letter from him. So long because he had been so busy where he was, he couldn't say then. He couldn't say then because it was classified, but now she knew it was Fallujah. Fallujah because there was a lot of bad people there and not as many in the U.S. CD's left unopened on the shelf in the living room. Unopened because she couldn't bring herself to listen to them. She couldn't listen to them because they were his songs. His songs because when they play all she can remember is his voice loud in the kitchen. Loud in the kitchen because he couldn't cook without singing and dancing. He sang and danced because that made her laugh and that made him happy. © 2015 K.Author's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
274 Views
5 Reviews Added on December 24, 2015 Last Updated on December 24, 2015 AuthorRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|