Off-Kilter

Atriya opened the fridge.
Protein shake. Apple. Strawberries.
Routine.

Routine was control.

The shower wouldn’t cooperate.
The temperature refused precision.

Annoying — but manageable.

What wasn’t manageable
was realizing he hadn’t checked his weapons.

That wasn’t forgetfulness.

That was something else.

A soldier can’t afford to drift.