He depressed the blinds with his finger when the firecrackers started, watched a couple of lanky teenage boys jump through the clouds of smoke.
Then they climbed up to the rooftops and hooked their legs around the steel skeletons of signs, waiting for the fireworks show to shred the twilight with thunder and sparks.
He uncapped the Jim Beam and set the Peacemaker on the table.
“You and me, old girl,” he said, raising his glass.
The first shell crashed into the sky, and he fell back in time, tasting the jungle sweat, the dry desert air.
My exciting 4th of July! 1. Finish a series of programs to download weather forecast data for the entire planet. 2. Analyze infrasound recordings of simulated volcanic explosions. 3. Mow lawn. 4. Light off somewhat anticlimactic fountain fireworks; fail to convince brother in law that we should make our own next year. 5. Figure out something to write for Friday Fictioneers. But hey, happy birthday America! Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer. The weekly photo that inspired this story is below: