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I was twenty years old and at home for two weeks from the army. Special Forces training and combat in Afghanistan had left my body heard and firm, and I could run with the best of them. I was in the best shape of my life and I felt like I owned the world. When I was told by my superior officers that I had earned a two week leave, I jumped at the chance and decided to head home. But home for me meant so only in the sense of where I came from. My parents had both died at the hands of a drunk driver while I was a senior in high school. Because I was an only child, my best friend's mom, Barb, took me in until I finished the school year and then went on to make my mark in the world. I decided before graduation that the army was my best choice because it offered the chance of travel, excitement, and pay. And if I wanted to and if I enjoyed the Army, I could always make it a career. So here I was, two years after graduation and back in the same town where I had grown up. I called my best friend Ben's house to arrange for a ride to his house. His mother picked up the phone on the first ring.

"Hello, Barb. It's me, Luke. I finally made it! Is Ben around? I could use a ride from the bus station." It was a very hot and humid day and although I was wearing my summer dress uniform along with my green beret, I was also beginning to sweat from the heat. The sun beat down on me, its glare unobstructed by a single cloud in the sky. I stood in the bright sunshine hoping I could get into a pair of shorts as soon as possible, then find the nearest bar.

...

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