“Enough of this! To hell with the consequences.” The third from before was with one other, this day, so they were just two. He busied, the second, and the first just watched him, before saying, “One wrong move, and we’re all done. These roads should be closed longer…”
The second stopped, grunted and said, “My wife and kids… I have not seen them in over six months.” I stopped listening as the message sunk on deeper. It hit all ends. It’s been six months! Time doesn’t stop indeed, not even in death.
“I don’t care anymore,” said the second, pulling me out of thought. He busied, then turned to me once, and I looked down. “Those who’ll live will live. But enough of this!”
The first seemed to hold an opinion back, like me, she must have felt the depth of his words, the second. She took a step back, the first, then nodded lightly.
This devil takes us from one end, and another bites from within. There’ll be so much to rebuild, after this storm, many must believe. I, too, did, until I wondered, will there be anything left to rebuild?
Benson Langat is a poet, fiction writer, and freelancer. A dreamer, he realizes a world of possibilities through stories and explores life in poetry. Benie is a dad and lives in Nairobi, Kenya.