A Breath of Still Air

Silence. Not the deafening blast of gunfire, but absolute quiet. My joints were locked stiff, rifle frozen forward. Then... warmth crept into my fingers. I tightened my grip on the synthetic stock. It gave slightly under my palm. Looking down, I eased one combat boot back into the gravel. Real weight. Real balance. I reached out and touched the cool, painted metal corner of an olive ammunition crate by my foot. Solid. The battle was frozen around me, but I was breathing.