[For Grant]
There are few places I genuinely want to be lately, ever since I found what I did. Two days on the boat had been all I could muster before my guilt kicked in and I returned home to make sure Joe wasn't going mad. I still am nowhere near myself and I drift more than before, as if imagining what being out five miles from shore would be like and dying.
Dying. But not by bullet or by mortar blast. Not by enemy fire or something honorable. No, in my case, I just vanish. Before I even realize where I've gone, I'm on Grant's doorstep and I knock at the door, brow furrowed in thought.
"You in?" I call out, half-hoping he's not and I can continue wandering (maybe take the boat out for an afternoon sail) and half-hoping he's here so maybe I can pretend to understand what I've found and why I can't seem to shake it, at all.
Dying. But not by bullet or by mortar blast. Not by enemy fire or something honorable. No, in my case, I just vanish. Before I even realize where I've gone, I'm on Grant's doorstep and I knock at the door, brow furrowed in thought.
"You in?" I call out, half-hoping he's not and I can continue wandering (maybe take the boat out for an afternoon sail) and half-hoping he's here so maybe I can pretend to understand what I've found and why I can't seem to shake it, at all.