A Brief Respite

I settled onto the sun-warmed slat of a weathered park bench, letting the street noise fade into a distant hum. My boots welcomed the pause after navigating two city blocks of rough asphalt. Propping my rifle upright against my knee, I leaned back against the peeling timber, crossing one leg over the other with effortless grace. A discarded red metal bottle cap rested inches away, catching the afternoon glare like an impromptu mirror. Tilting my chin, I caught my reflection in the polished foil—poised, alert, and undeniably composed. Patrolling foreign territory demands discipline, but knowing when to command a quiet pause is an art all its own.