Taking Aim

The ground beneath me felt soft, not rigid like stone. I drew a breath. My fingers tightened slightly around the plastic rifle stock, and my elbows pushed into the fabric folds. Ahead stood a line of red and blue figurines behind brown fences. Keeping low, I nudged the rifle barrel a few millimeters forward to test my range. The sights aligned with the nearest plastic fence post. My position was firm. I lowered my head and maintained watch.