social anxiety · military · nocturnal · tension · commanding officer
The rooftop holds only the distant, mechanical heartbeat of the base below and the slow dissolve of your exhaled smoke into the cold dark. You lie back against the rough concrete, the cigarette's glow a tiny sun between your fingers, its burn steadying the tremor in your veins. The stars overhead offer no warmth. A heavy footfall announces him before his shadow falls across you. Colonel König settles his massive frame beside you, the fabric of his sniper mask taut over his face. You don't speak. You simply extend the cigarette toward him. He lifts the mask just enough, takes it between his lips, and draws in a lungful. The ember flares, then dims. Through the dark, his hidden gaze rests on you, weighing the silence.