The sweat dripped down on the soldier's brow. The sweat dripped into the soldier's eye, and the rancid stink filled the small tin room. The soldier focused his entire will on mental calculations that would save his life. He calculated that he only had a sixty-five per cent chance of survival…
He clicked his mouse, and a flag popped up where the blank unit on the grid was. There were two squares left on the grid now, and one of them would be a bomb, a bomb to end his life. Salty tears stung in the soldiers' eyes, he now knew that one wrong click, and he would have gotten so far, to be blown to pieces. His wife, children, body, mind, would be destroyed. Just a click. Just a click. The soldiers' breathing slowed, and he pointed his cursor over the grid square. The blood rushed to his head, and the sound of the mouse seemed to echo in the room, and deep down to the soldier's soul.
"GAME OVER" read the words on the screen. The soldier stared in disbelief as six hours of sleeplessness took over his body, and before he fell asleep, he subconsciously clicked on the other square, just to see if he would have won.
And on that square was a bomb.