We'd been cleaning up the camping gear and found a cooler with urine-y black liquid inside. In the pool of darkness was floating a heart. Not the kind we draw to make someone smile, but an organ!
Another jetplane flew in so low it shook the ladies teacups in the saucers. "Oh my."
"That was close."
"Is it (i)really(i) a war?"
"A proper war?"
"Time will tell."
"Nothing really (i)proper(i) about war. Look what it does to people." Eyes indicated the corner of the clubhouse. Stacks and stacks of newspapers. Totally messy hair bulging a hightower of newspaper into an unorderly thing.
"Should I go to her?" A girl child asked but the question evaporated into the heavily settling air.
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