The Faded Dust
The bone breaks first. You hear it. A dry snap. Like a twig under a boot. But it is inside you. Inside the left thigh. The pain is a white hot wire. It pulls tight. You fall. The ground is cold. Mud. Rain. You are in the field. The wheat is cut. Stalks lie in rows. You look at your leg. The skin is smooth. There is no blood. Yet. You wait for the red. It does not come. The bone is gone. It is...
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