He whistled and sang “Take me to the place I love; Take me all the way“. He felt the loneliness. He felt the despair. There had been a time in which he hadn’t. But that was just too far gone. That was another life. Someone else’s life. He’d come to an understanding with his misery.  They had learn to co-exist.

He stared at the flower. How did it co-exist with its misery?  The handprints on top said it all. Despair and the need to flee.

He picked up his bayonet and got ready. Another day. Another battle. It was always a battle.