Brother

(50 WORDS): Two wounded enemy soldiers meet on the remains of a battlefield.

         The battlefield surrounds me. Fallen brothers, weeping sisters: lives lost without purpose. I see movement, glimmering steel. Another soldier lives.
         I approach. My canteen quenches his thirst. He sees my uniform, a different color, but my blood, it is the same. We smile. It’s okay. We’ll both meet in hell.