Saturday, March 26, 2022

Last stand

‘How you doing, Sam?’

The filthy sleeping bag rolled over.


‘Fuck off, I’m sleeping.’

‘It’d be warmer in the shelter … Sam? Why’re you doing this to yourself?’

‘No judgements; didn’t they tell you that in the training?’

‘I’m concerned about you.’

‘I don’t need your pity.’

‘It isn’t pity, Sam.’

‘Fuck off, do-gooder.’

‘It’s already below freezing.’

‘I’m fine here.’

‘It’s going snow later.’

‘Then I’ll make myself an igloo.’

‘Not before hypothermia sets in.’

‘Then I guess that’s how I’ll go.’

‘I can’t leave you here, Sam.’

‘Then it’ll be my last stand; you and the weather.’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

1 comment:

Margot Kinberg said...

Now you've made me curious about Same, Rob. I have to wonder how he got to this point, and why he doesn't seem to want help. You paint a strong picture of rough sleeping, too. Well done