You understand, don’t you, my friend…

So sweet. So innocent.

No. Not her. HER.

You, my beloved, dog eared, stained-in-blood journal. You understand, don’t you?

You understand what it means to me to see a barrage of lead, unleashed. On her. The sharp cracks, too many… too many… followed by mushy ‘thwacks’ as the bullets find home not even 10 feet away. That final look on her face as she sees the betrayal.

Not her. HER.

That look on the gang’s face as they watch, horrified. Then the wash of anger. The rising of weapons, the determination in their eyes as I raise my hands, falling to my knees, surrendering to the inevitable lightning and thunder. I count the seconds between them. I don’t wait long. I smile as I fall. I am free.

And I freed her.

Not her. HER.

Stay focused!

Wait. What?

The vision falls away.

A record skips, the ‘brrrzzziippp’ of tortured needle and vinyl tears at my mind.

Wait. What?

It was a great day. I managed to trade up for a lot of ammo, and put wheels in motion at ATC for discrete supplies of further needs with Cake. Really sweet gal. A lot of innocence about her. How does she do that?

I fed a stray dog last night. A dog. How wonderful is that?

I have food. More than I need. I donated some to the shelter even. How wonderful is  that?

Things are a bit strange at work though. Change has come. It isn’t comfortable, but I abide. I’ll ride it out. I’ll survive. It’s one of the few anchors I have. Of the old world. Of civilization.

Of the goodness I seek.

What a great conversation I had with Rylie.

Not her. HER.

CrackaCrackaCrackCrackCrack

The lightning. The thunder.

The vision returns.

You understand, don’t you, my friend?