Great story. Politics is the essence of life, it's inescapable on all levels. How well we do it on a personal or national level will determine the quality of life we can lead.. whether we live in a democracy or under the rule of a explotative dictator.
The man's hair was immaculately coiffed, expertly parted and combed across his broad forehead. A few days' stubble silvered his jaw, catching the light when he leaned his head back to sip from the longneck beer he drank. He sat with other men around the table, dead soldiers littering its rough surface. The patio was open to the elements, but it was shaded from the late afternoon sun. The men had been there since shortly after noon. They'd solved all the world's problems, which had seemed so self-evident and capable of solution. Still, the man wondered whether he'd remember any of it the next morning.
Someone stood up at the end of the table and said, "Chicken-fried steak, anyone?," and there was a flurry of upturned bottles and scraping chairs as the flock departed into the desert air.
Great story. Politics is the essence of life, it's inescapable on all levels. How well we do it on a personal or national level will determine the quality of life we can lead.. whether we live in a democracy or under the rule of a explotative dictator.
excellent story
The man's hair was immaculately coiffed, expertly parted and combed across his broad forehead. A few days' stubble silvered his jaw, catching the light when he leaned his head back to sip from the longneck beer he drank. He sat with other men around the table, dead soldiers littering its rough surface. The patio was open to the elements, but it was shaded from the late afternoon sun. The men had been there since shortly after noon. They'd solved all the world's problems, which had seemed so self-evident and capable of solution. Still, the man wondered whether he'd remember any of it the next morning.
Someone stood up at the end of the table and said, "Chicken-fried steak, anyone?," and there was a flurry of upturned bottles and scraping chairs as the flock departed into the desert air.
This is quite evocative. Is it Cormac McCarthy or Deece X?