The Impracticable Choice

" Flora, you are serious? You are asking for a transfer?" Lieutenant Hernandez inquired, his voice low as he leaned across the mess table, the clinking of spoons and shanks dying into a tense hum among the men.

Flora's aspect was bent , her tone strict over the pulsing beachfront of emotion that pigmented each judgment ." Yes, Hernandez. I can no longer stay then suffocating in the weight of long- held prospects. I want a fresh launch — a new place where I can ...