Wanted Comforts
A Micro Fiction Story
Katherine Rochholz
All Rights Reserved Katherine
Rochholz
I looked down at
my MRE and sighed. What I would give for actual food. A sandwich. I would kill
for a sandwich. For as much as I complained about them being too simple when I
was a child, I would kill for one now. Kill. I looked at my little pocket calendar,
and sighed again, another six months before I would leave this wasteland. I sat
back and thought about the first thing I would do when I left this last tour.
First, kiss my wife. Second, kiss my son. Then a sandwich. A large pastrami and
rare roast beef sandwich. It would be stacked as big as my head, with the
perfect cooked and sliced pastrami, and the perfect rare roast beef. With the
perfect melted cheese, provolone. Melted to perfection. After that fabulous
sandwich, I would take a bath, and sleep on my bed, holding my wife once more.
I looked down at the MRI again and sighed. I want to be home, I want to hold my
family, and I want to eat something that had all the flavoring and water sucked
from it. Gun shoots had startled me from my thoughts, and without thought, I
grabbed my gun and went into battle, the thoughts of family and perfect
sandwiches forgotten as the war wages on…
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