smolderhalder
He eyes the long black cannon with distrust radiating from his pupils. His hair is cropped short, face smeared with mud. The uniform on his body is tight and hot, too much cloth to be wearing in a jungle. Across the large expanse of field he hears shouting, angry shouts. They reverberate throughout the entire open area, and he tugs his hat down, preparing for gunshots.
writing since 2010 · 2 entries · 2 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means J showed up.
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the words J reaches for
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