The heat and dust made for a miserable day. The uniform, the boots, the rations, the weapons, made for a miserable day. The incoming, the patrols, the bombings, made for a miserable day.
Alone because, he didn't truly fit in, his family miles away, made for a miserable day.
Even more than these things, the people, miserable, wretched, deceitful and dangerous, made the days and nights miserable, made him feel things he never felt before, made him hate like he had never hated before.
No one had noticed, the tick that had developed along his jaw. They didn't pay attention cause if they had, they would have noticed the way he became more and more isolated, cradling and talking to his weapon, the way his eyes looked, wild and, how, he didn't sleep.
He had endured many miserable days.
This miserable day. he went out on patrol, people passed him and he jerked his weapon towards them. His sarge, glared at him for a moment but, he didn't have time to take full stock, someone shouted out something about a terrorist.. One of the wretches pointed out one of the buildings about a block down the narrow street.
He glanced in through the window, there at the table sat 4 people.. a man, a woman and two young children. They tried to pretend they were eating. There were a few cups and plates set.. they didn't fool him. When he entered, the man stood and raised his hands, he gibbered something in that horrible language, the language he hated.. The man moved forward, picked up a cup and offered it to him. The rest of the family sat quiet, staring down at the table.
His C.O. led him gently by the arm, the cuffs were tight but , he didn't mind. He knew, he had done the right thing, at least he thought so.. They had began whispering, the man tried to make him drink the poison.. the others kept whispering.. He knew they conspired to kill him.. he didn't give them the chance, he cocked his weapon, he smiled, he fired.. He did what he had to do..
Now he sat and looked out the barred window, He stared across the dry dusty earth, he watched as little dust devils swirled and played. It was cool within the confines of the cell, and he was able to think, he thought about his family.. He continued to rip lengths of cloth off the loose shirt he'd been wearing. Tying the ends together, he stood on the chair the interrogator had sat on. He tied the other end around the overhead pipe, he made a slipknot.. slid it over his head, and said a silent goodbye....