I looked over my shoulder. Half of my men were dead behind me, their bodies scattered in the midst of bullet shells. The enemy was fast approaching, ceasing fire until they got closer. Gunless and hopeless I called out to the last of my squad, “Retreat”.
The wind blew solemnly over the crowded city. A woman dashed across the road, hoping the light was still red. A man strolled down the street to meet his husband at their new apartment. Children ran around the park, playing with their friends. And as I look around, I think of how I feel to be here. Grateful.