I watched him as his hardened eyes focused on the screen; men in camo covered in dust, a mike shoved under their unwilling mouths, replying to questions in a rehearsed monotone. Colour abandoned his face, shriveled out of him like water from a sponge forgotten in the sun. A hundred condolences rushed to my tongue, none adequate. I stepped forward instead, and placed my hand on his shoulder. But his eyes, now red, never left the TV, his mind wondering only of the son he’d lost; the one standing next to him a mere presence trespassing on his grief.
This is in response to Trifecta’s challenge:
Color: complexion tint:
I changed it to the British version, but the word is still there, up for your critique. Thanks for reading.