100 word stories. Post all you like, maybe we'll dip in and use yours?
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“Can you believe this?” he said, his infected arm marred and bleeding on the table. The cardboard blocking the windows was covered with perfectly circular bullet holes, and sunlight pockmarked his face as if from a disco ball. I barely heard his whisper over that crisp popping of their strange guns outside. “Can you believe this?” I tightened the tourniquet around his arm and reached for the hunting knife and the lighter. He was looking down at the silver Cross hanging from his necklace, the fingers in his healthy hand twirling aimlessly around its smooth surface. “Can you believe this?”