Clover

“Didn’t know how much it would hurt.”

His hand shook as he took a drink. It didn’t stay too still these days. Too much in his head, he thought: a steady mind for a steady hand. His aching body struggled against gravity, but he wouldn’t sit. Not for this.

He smiled painfully, hand wiping his face.

“Look’t that,” he croaked, “you really got me, huh?”

Nothing answered him, of course. Nothing but the wind.