secret ops

we were standing in a hangar, where a helicopter was about to launch indoors. you had been chosen to lead a mission, secret ops, with one other man. i had also been selected to go along as a spy, someone to extrapolate information, find weaknesses, snuff out the enemy. you didn't know i was there until the prop started to turn. when you saw me, i had just looked down and noticed that on the day of the mission launch, i had forgotten to wear shoes. but somehow i had remembered to pack a pair of yours -- old hiking shoes you had retired and then lent to me once, socks too. too big, dusty, burrs in the laces, they would have to do. hopefully this wouldn't involve a lot of running away from the enemy, i thought. you saw me tying the shoes, and i couldn't tell what upset you more -- that i was wearing your shoes or that i had been chosen to go on the same mission.

once we arrived, we were on a deserted college campus. somewhere, someone was hiding, lying in wait. my job was unclear, and i could hardly walk. you seemed to know what you were doing, you had a gun and the other guy listened to you. i wanted to talk to you, ask you what exactly i was supposed to be doing, make sure it was alright if i borrowed your shoes, tell you i was scared.  but i couldn't.

we found ourselves inside a church. gunfire outside. i realized that it was my job to go out and discover the identity of the enemy, but you grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me in the eye: you can't go out there.

why not?

because they'll kill you.

and that would bother you?

stay here, i'll go instead. get up on the roof.

i watched you disappear into the hedge. i could only see leaves, the dark rubber green and lime yellow undersides of leaves.