Shell

Shell

“I found another one.” He put a brass shell casing on the table between him and the Doctor, and folded his arms. “They keep appearing. Under my pillow, in my mattress, sometimes they fall out of my hair.”

The Doctor scribbled something on his datapad

“Yesterday I found one in my food.” The man stared at the distorted room through the reflection of the casing. “I thought you checked what you served,” he looked up, “but I keep finding them. Reminders of the battle. Oh god, the reminders.” He clutched his head.

Doctor Sterne looked down at the empty table.