“Stupid fools!” Brad thought, when total strangers approached, glanced at his prosthesis, and commented with a smile and a nod, “thank you for your service…”
He knew he was not who they assumed he was. Their comments, the stares, the side-glancing whispers, their misplaced approval haunted him. It made him wish that he had died in the crash; not the young mother and three small children whose car had the misfortune of being in the path of his drunken recklessness.
They didn’t know him. All they saw was his titanium leg, assuming the best…his personal hell.
96 words for Friday Fictioneers inspired by the photo above by J. Hardy Carroll.