Ficly

Timing

This little flutter of doubt is now a seed planted in my brain, slowly taking root and being fertilized by this man’s continual presence. He takes a look, I jump. What’s wrong with me? I’ve had no qualms about it, even willing to take my own life in the pursuit of what is right.

My shoes feel heavy, and now that seed is growing vines out to other areas: what if they explode too early? Too late? I need to have just the right timing to hit the target…

But no. I’ve gone over this. 5:30. At 5:30, if I see the city outside the window coming toward us, then is the time to act.

The man takes a look at his watch, making me check mine.

It’s 4:52.

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