Operation, 17
A Microfiction Heist
The time was set. Steven had prepared for weeks. It had been three months for Selina—three long months. All was quiet, save for a recurring beep. That was expected. It was there, right in front of him. The entire operation came down to this moment. The precision of a knife's edge was needed—no room to falter.
Steven raised his right hand, steadying it with his left. The drill whirred. With the bit nearly touching the surface, Steven froze as a resounding sneeze was heard. He quieted the drill. Was it someone outside the room? Selina reticently scouted the room. The silence held. With his nerves regained, Steven pressed the trigger and impelled.
Sweat beaded on Steven's temple. Now grasping the saw, he hugged the blade to the surface. Done. Once again, the room quieted. Not a sound came from outside. He had his entry point.
As Steven made his reach, Selina's breathing quickened. Suddenly, the once steady beep quickened. Could something be going wrong? How? She forced herself to slow her breathing. She heard a clank on the metal surface behind her. Steven came around, catching her gaze with a radiant smile.
"We got it," he said. "No more tumor."
About the Creator
Geno C. Foral
Husband of a beautiful wife. Father of a magical daughter. Student of clinical psychology.
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Comments (1)
Wow. This is absolutely amazing. You should be proud as hell.