This is a relatively new drabble, but not many people 'got it' when I posted it elsewhere. Hope you all do! It was written for the 'occupation' challenge.
Title: Fragments
Mars Day tomorrow. Hope Tigh isn't planning too many fireworks."
"Saul's in detention," I say in a flat tone.
Cottle stills. "Again? Not sure how much more he can take."
"I'm not sure how much more any of us can take."
Cottle lights a cigarette. I stare at it.
A canvas cot, my head cradled by a sandbag, fingers skimming from my palm to my wrist every time the joint is passed between us.
"Want one?" Cottle asks, misinterpreting my look of yearning.
I shake my head and look down at the scissors I'm holding. Their silver blades glint maliciously. Centurion hands...
"Half hour to curfew," Ishay notes from behind me, where she's rolling bandages from the strips I've previously cut.
The last piece of material gathers. I determinedly straighten it. Its seams are weeping with red threads. Tears the colour of blood.
It must be many long minutes later when Ishay takes the scissors from my shaking hands.
"I'll finish here," she murmurs.
"Wouldn't do for you to end up in detention alongside the Colonel," Cottle agrees.
Outside, I avoid my desperate desire to search the stars. Instead, I tug my dull grey, but practical, sweater around me tighter.
The End