Taking on airs

‘It’s the air.’

‘What about it?’

‘It reminds me of home.  It’s damp and fresh, with a hint of salt, loam, smoke and gorse.  Like an autumn evening.’

‘Like a battlefield in Normandy.  All I can smell is fear.’

‘I’m not talking about smell.  It’s more elemental.  It’s the actual air.  The stuff we breathe.  Move through.  That swirls around us.  The atmosphere that creates a certain atmosphere.’

‘You should write a poem.’

‘I’m not trying to be a poet.  I’m telling you why this place seems familiar.’

‘Well, we’re not used to lying in a foxholes in Huddlesfield, Jonesy.’




A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.