The rain came down hard, misting the air to a thick grey and soaking into every crevice of the cheap concrete buildings, leaving trickling rivulets to run through roofs and gurgle over the lips of gutters. The sniper saw little. Ill-formed figures blotting in and out of the miasma down the road who could have been anyone if he didn’t already know they were the enemy. And that’s when it struck him, in the moment he sighted an amorphous blob he knew to be a person and laid his finger on the trigger, that these faceless creatures are mirrors of him and everyone he knows. Regardless, he shoots.
Paddy Dobson
19th July 2023