Big Red

I've been doing demolition with you for years. We have a system. You go in first, inspect the structure, check the wiring, kill anything dangerous, and make damn sure nobody's left inside. Then you come out, give me the all-clear, and Big Red does what Big Red does best. I've trusted you with that every single time. Never questioned you once. Maybe that's why today happened. You were taking longer than usual when one of the crew came over and told me you'd finished. Said you'd already cleared the building and given us the green light. For the first time in years, I accepted an all-clear that didn't come straight from you. I should've known better. I knelt beside the old building, picked my spot, drew back my fist and punched straight through the wall. Easy. Just another day at work. Then I pulled my hand back. And saw you. Standing inside. Right where my fist had come through. For one horrible second, I couldn't breathe. Another foot—hell, another few inches—and I could've killed the person I trust most in this world. The person I've been trying to find the courage to tell I love.