Staring into his reflection in the muddy puddle, he could picture himself as an old man. He could imagine the lines and wrinkles that would mark his face with experience and time. The young man liked the idea that his soft features might become rugged and defined. That age would give him character and a sense of wisdom. He didn’t know that old age had already abandoned him. He didn’t know about the bullet that waited for him around the next corner. The young man smiled as he imagined the stories of war he would one day tell his grandchildren.
Previously published: https://thedrabble.wordpress.com/2017/05/08/reflections-of-the-future/