By James ( Jim ) Freeze
I was known to enjoy the taste of a good book. But on this day I found myself standing near a doorway, looking, and not looking, thinking. I was deep, or seemed to be deep, in a book, but my face did not look as it usually does when I am happy in my reading. My contracted brow revealed intense concentration, too intense for mere reading. The same mental pain often takes control to remind me of my last tour in Vietnam. I fought a losing war, deep in death, on foreign soil to learn my country would dishonor my allegiance.
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