pathway, a pitcher-full of ice
drawn from the hotel's ice machine
in hand.
about to pull an all-nighter
with a bottle of grey goose vodka
for company.
alone inside a four-sided wall, all i could hear was the quiet hum of the monitors sending their messages into the gloom.
downrange. and in country.
a flight of drones. a flash of doom.
one less tango inside the room.
a sardonic smile. a vengeful toast.
a silent triumph. a night of quiet celebration
at home.
