I was much older than most of my fellow soldiers, who I’d beat in challenge after ever-fucking challenge, but on the night of February 27, 1991, my entire identity was wiped off the face of Earth.

The Guy in the Shed

He works like a bull dog, running back and forth across my neighbor's yard, his tall and skinny, rail of a silhouette rarely wearing a shirt in our Florida heat, a humid, sticky sort of heat that can easily wear down the weakest among us.

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