9d • 🧱 Fragments
Bullet Casing
The range went quiet.
Targets downrange.
No one speaking.
A spent casing rested near my boot.
Still warm.
Brass catching the sun.
I bent to pick it up.
Rolled it between my fingers.
Feeling the heat leave.
Behind the line, the others packed up.
Voices returning to normal.
I kept the casing in my pocket.
Proof
something had just happened
that no one else would carry home.
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Bullet Casing
