Dictator

Chaos reigned. The enemy was advancing while his forces retreated. He opened the drawer on his desk. The gun was there, as always.

Suicide

He looked at the figurine. 10 years of work, but it was imperfect. Second chances don’t beget masterpieces. He smashed it into pieces.

On Board

He rushed down the stairs. The train was stationary. Had it just arrived or was it ready to leave? He braced himself for what was to follow.