Next to him, his captain kneels

Next to three others

There are gunshots in the distance

As the enemy draws closer

He hears the metallic shing of a sword being drawn

The wet death rattle of someone to his left

The thump of a body to the dirt

One after another, the four soldiers die around him

Until he’s the only one left

He takes out his knife

Stares into the shiny surface

Into the reflection

Lines the point to his stomach

His hand shakes

The knife lands with a dull clank to the ground

And next to the bloody bodies of his unit

He realizes that he can’t do it

His honor isn’t worth it