Wanted Comforts: A Micro Fiction Story

Wanted Comforts
A Micro Fiction Story
Katherine Rochholz
All Rights Reserved Katherine Rochholz

I looked down at my MRE and sighed. What I would give for actual food. A sandwich. I would kill for a sandwich. For as much as I complained about them being too simple when I was a child, I would kill for one now. Kill. I looked at my little pocket calendar, and sighed again, another six months before I would leave this wasteland. I sat back and thought about the first thing I would do when I left this last tour. First, kiss my wife. Second, kiss my son. Then a sandwich. A large pastrami and rare roast beef sandwich. It would be stacked as big as my head, with the perfect cooked and sliced pastrami, and the perfect rare roast beef. With the perfect melted cheese, provolone. Melted to perfection. After that fabulous sandwich, I would take a bath, and sleep on my bed, holding my wife once more. I looked down at the MRI again and sighed. I want to be home, I want to hold my family, and I want to eat something that had all the flavoring and water sucked from it. Gun shoots had startled me from my thoughts, and without thought, I grabbed my gun and went into battle, the thoughts of family and perfect sandwiches forgotten as the war wages on…

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