Preference

It so often came down to the two.

In this case it was between the green and the yellow. Time seemed to be drawing out, but he knew the clock was ticking. His brain began to fog with the colours; green and yellow. In the movies it was usually a choice between the last of all the other wires that had been traced. The two remaining were typically blue or red. Now, with green or yellow… which one should he cut; which one would neutralise the device. Green or yellow, not blue or red. He felt the sweat building up beneath his full body bomb suit. This wasn’t a movie, he told himself; this was real life. What he did next was critical. Surely, he thought, his wealth of knowledge and experience from his time disarming these things should afford him some high degree of innate preference, when it came down to just the two.

She poked him awake. She stood in front of him holding the two dresses up on their hangers.

He sat blinking.

She bent down. “I don’t think you’re really trying,” she whispered.

He sighed.

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