He was prepared to leave, without a drop of hesitation. He stared, for a moment. Gazing down at the impeccable serrated blade of the knife that caressed the granite counter top; staring back at him, smiling.
I need a little literary throat clearing in order to put this idea into play, because as is often the case…
It was the dead of winter and our tents barely stood against the wind. Our General gave the word to march. It seemed to be morning since the darkness of the night seemed a bit lightened. We had to make ground since we were reinforcements for a battle several miles away. It was cold but the…
