#blackout prose

[owlett]

He wore a button-down shirt, slacks. Nothing flash. Inky black hair clipped short over his ears. He looked clean, respectable - normal. That was the giveaway.

He had the firm set in the jaw, and intense so-blue-they-were-almost-gray eyes that caught mine and wouldn't let go. I might have reassessed my opinion that he was a                                                                                    zombie... -- A little Simon Monroe blackout poetry to say thanks for all the likes this week!

[owlett]

I felt sick. Images I'd kept buried from that night started resurfacing randomly. His voice cut through my panic. 'Are you okay?' His hand gripped my shoulder just tight enough to steady me. 'Don't worry about anything,' he said. 'I'll take care of you. How do you feel about France?'

-- Another piece of In The Flesh blackout prose.

[owlett]

The soldier angry, entirely incompatible with most. Affection for this other man, It was not easy but it was obvious.

A promise is a promise.

"I will tell you exactly what happened." He raised his face white as death, "I thought you had been dead."