"We should be careful this time."
He mutters
making a cloud of
chilly breath.
I stare at our only source of light.
Our only light
and death
at the same time.
Right now, we don't want to be seen.
We're getting tired.
"Sure. Don't want to clean anymore."
He laughs.
I smile.
"Well, it's late. We gotta move."
He pulls the sack towards our pickup.
I follow.
The heavy weight of the our shared backpack leans ever so deep on me.
Reaching the vehicle, we gave out relief.
The night's chilly,
chilly like
always.
"We definitely getting a promotion."
He smiles at the three sacks we took.
"Hard work pays off, right?"
He turns to me.
I giggle softly.
"Yeah."
I placed the backpack on the passenger's seat.
I'm riding shotgun.
"Pat 'em first darling."
I glanced at the three sacks on the backseat.
"For luck. For luck."
[For luck, the contes-"]
I pat the bags.
We're tired
but the sacks
never stopped
mvonig.
YOU ARE READING
Unnecessary Gazillion Of Words (CPN)
RandomA collection of stories with unnecessary words. From getting sick of your friend's maiden heart to destroying the world for fun. CPN style. Experimental at its best.
