The loud explosion shook the makeshift shelter violently. Instinctively I dropped to the floor and covered my head with my hands.
A photograph was shook free from one of the many books that were scattered around the small space. Over the past few months I been living in my shelter for many days at a time in fear of my life. I had built up quite a collection of books in that time. I did not own any bookmarks, though, so using old photographs was a good way to mark your place.
As it fluttered to the floor I found myself simply staring at it. I could remember everything about the moment this photograph have been taken. It was our wedding anniversary and my husband had just passed his helicopter pilot license so, what better excuse could we have for a celebration flight?
It seemed like yesterday but everything was gone now. The cityscape, the odd bits of greenery, and, of course, my husband.
All lost in a war that was being waged for a reason I could not remember. It all seemed pointless.
Wanting to regain what was lost, I stepped outside in order to wait for the inevitable.
Written for Sunday photo fiction