Nothing

Two

Ten months, two weeks.

He's been out here for that long.

It's October. Christmas is in two months.

"War..be over..Christmas.." He heard some of the patrols chat as they walked past his post. Speaking of chat, he wished for chat. He could've have a partner, but his partner was killed. By a sickness.

It wasn't no normal sickness, not a flu, not a cold. No. It was a completely new breed.

Called 'Vitron-68A.' The sniper didn't know the science behind it. All he knew that Vitron came with them. The sky invaders.

There's another whoosh. Planes are rushing by. More planes, sending dead leaves everywhere. He reaches out and grasps a leaf just before it falls from his reach. He pulls it into the room and looks at the leaf, then sets it beside him.

The planes have stopped. They're gone. To where, he doesn't know. Perhaps he won't ever know. It's likely.

A few hours have passed since his thoughts to himself. He hears a group of footsteps and immediately tenses up, lowering himself with the old, dusty brown wood floor. He leans forwards to his scope, praying to himself that he wouldn't see them. But he sees nothing. Paranoia? It wasn't ruled off. Some soldiers say when they're near you get paranoid.

He jumps in surprise when he hears his name.

"Jai!"

Not his real name. A code name.

In reality, the sniper didn't know anything of his family history. He called himself nameless - a thief as a child, struggling to survive each season. He developed fantastic patience through the years. Then the war came, and there was a shortage.

"You need to fight," said the men. But he doesn't want to. He wants home. Safety. But no where is safe here.

"Y'er shift is over. I'm here to take over for now."

The sniper stays silent, unmoving. He stiffens as he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon." The hand is removed, and the sniper stared into blank space. He lowers his scope and removes his gun, getting upwards before pausing. The leaf.

He wondered, should he leave it behind?

No. He won't.

He won't leave that leaf behind, like he did to his partner. But it was forced. This time it ain't forced. He kneeled down and picked the leaf from the ground, shuffling out to the balcony where the stairs were.

I hope the war's over before Christmas.