World War IV
Cal shuffled off down the street, his pant cuffs dragging on the smooth green sidewalk. He stopped off at a stand to buy one of the ever-present cups of coffee that vendors littered the city with. The paper cup collapsed almost immediately, and Cal crushed it in his hand and threw it in the general direction of the nearest trash can.
He was walking to the army enlistment office, which was a seemingly infinite number of city blocks from his house. He stopped on the street to watch an angry man in a blue suit yell at a boy on a bike wearing a messengers outfit.
Cal listened to the radio news playing endlessly over the Emerald City speakers on every corner, and silently prayed for an armistice.
The war had ushered in a new era in time. Everything was different: food was rationed, thus the bland street coffee, and everything was done to help the war effort.
He leaned against a niche in the dark green office building on the street and lit a cigarette. He prayed again for peace, for everything to be disclaimed and everything back to normal. In his heart, Cal knew that he was really just didn’t want to go to war. He was so afraid. But it was arrogant to expect the war to end just to gratify his own inexperience.
The blaring news over the speakers, the announcer droning in the most perfectly boring way about a bankrupt hospital, woke Cal from his wishing.
And as he turned back in the direction of the enlistment office, imagining the tedious paperwork with questions about how physically fit he was, he trailed smoke behind him up the street. No one noticed, but his eyes were slowly filling up with tears.
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