"I started firing every which way, blind as a bat." -James Tate, from The Ghost Soldiers

Mourning

You shoved an envelope into my chest. I had no idea who you were. Here, take this you said. But don’t open it. I grabbed the envelope, and held it. Hide it hide it you said. I put it under my shirt. Now, don’t read it until the time is right. I nodded. We’re all depending on you you said. I nodded again, a bit more enthusiastically this time. Take this seriously you said. The timing has to be perfect. I patted my chest, where the envelope was resting. You remember your instructions. I looked around, making sure nobody was watching us. Consider your training. I bent down, and laced up my now unlaced boot. Everybody is the enemy, now. This is the attitude you must have. I karate-chopped the air and smiled. Don’t joke. I changed my demeanor, and became more solemn. But act natural. I straightened my mouth, and raised my eyebrows, uncertain of what to do, exactly, anymore. We’re all depending on you you repeated, and then a van pulled up. You entered through the sliding door, and the van screeched off around the corner. I walked down the street, and took a seat at the coffee shop. An enemy smiled at me as she walked by. Another enemy approached me and asked if I’d like anything, like a cup of coffee. I would be going down some sort of rabbit-hole soon, but, for then, I would order a cappuccino, and drink it, wondering who you were, and who you intended to give this envelope to, the envelope poking into my chest like a knife all the while. I would feel lonely, and part of something greater, all at the same time. I wouldn’t want to let everybody down.