Two Soldiers
“Dizzy, about to be sick again, but he wasn’t, he could stay sitting up.
Wanda’s hand holding his arm, but he pushed it away, he could manage alone and her face was so tired, her eyes black, her lips dry.
Domestic sounds from inside the three nearest apartments. Music from the one to the left, maybe Greek, a TV from the one in the middle, and someone hammering in the one to the right. Gabriel supported himself with one hand against the wall and one against the trash chute as he tried to get up, but was forced to sit down again. The dizziness had intensified, his legs turned to jelly. He tried again, she held his hand and he didn’t push her away, she was stronger than he’d imagined and he managed to stand up for several seconds this time.
“I want you to call.”
The Greek music and the TV and the damn hammering and her voice.
“Gabriel, you know it’s never going to end. You have to call again!”
Threats. Fifty thousand. Violence. Threats. Seventy-five thousand. Violence. A hundred thousand.
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