No one told us how loud the shots were. They are ringing but the ammunitions are loud and pointless when shot at flat boards. No pain, no weight of consequences. They are so very loud. My head hurts from the combination of sound and the ear plugs stretching my ear canals so there’s always some gap that the wind whistles through.
Like thunder in the distant background the loud noise drones on. We only care about the here and now. Buddy level or as couples we walk side by side, hand dangling red and green plastics pulling from the weight of bottles and cans. The plastics rustle and cling cheaply at the condensation like some wet and desperate wedgie. Slow matching strides and talking. No one yelling at us. A domestic sight. Just another Sunday grocery run.
We only care about the here and now. That’s why our faces are split with a silly grin – food! – as we dally about green and odd like a chameleon with bopping pouches and the rifle slung across our chest. With thunder in the distant background, we make camo look natural.
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