It's so weird bumping into guys you served with in Iraq. You're sitting there drinking coffee talking about jobs, kids and life in general then suddenly you can't hear a word they're saying. You're both standing there over that dead body. The breeze that had been blowing- cooling the sweat pouring out of every pore of your body causing you to shiver stops- the same breeze that must have incidentally carried away the smell of blood since you can suddenly taste it-that dirty coppery taste. You never forget it and you can't get it off of you until you shower and change clothes and then- maybe. It may linger for days.
There's a rushing noise in your ears and suddenly you're back. He tells the punch line to a joke and you both bust out laughing like crazy. You guys are having way tooo much fun the waitress says.
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2 comments:
Wow...I love the way you write. Although, no one should have to balance a cup of coffee over such memories...I'm so sorry.
Thanks Mrs A, but at same time wouldn't trade those experiences for anything.
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