(no subject)
The old man walked carefully up the sidewalk as if he might accidentally lose his footing and fall a mile. His hands jingled the coins evenly distributed in each of his pants pockets and his thoughts drifted to his son for the second time in as many days. The air around him was cold and his breath tumbled out of his nose and mouth in small round clouds of steam. John, his son, was miles away fighting a war that made no sense and though the man tried not to, his thoughts kept conjuring bleak images of his in some ditch bracing against the concussion of yet another explosion.