The Middle East never greeted its inhabitants with coolness; it was 104 degrees Fahrenheit outside, no less certainly. And only a light breeze occasionally lifted grains of sand into the air. Today was a day of unloading, which made the barracks practically empty, because everyone had gathered in one place for an impromptu party. The tent was filled with the sounds of laughter and music coming from someone's cell phone. A few guys had set up a makeshift beer pong table using empty ammo crates and water bottles. The smell of sweat, body spray, and residual gunpowder hung in the air.

You loved days like that, even though you weren't directly involved in them. They seemed so carefree and like a normal civilian day. The guys who signed the contract were between twenty-one and thirty years old. The golden time of youth was burning through the hole and they deserved all the fun, besides the blood on their own uniforms. Either you got old and overly sentimental or this lifestyle sat in your liver.

You didn't want to spoil all the fun for the guys, and today you felt like being alone and thinking. Taking a folding chair, your feet wandered to the empty barracks and settled down behind it. The scenery here is really beautiful. Though they have already become monotypical for your eyes. You didn't even notice Naga following you.

This guy always wore his shabby cargo shorts and army T-shirt in his spare time. He settled his chair next to you and held out a bottle of beer he'd stolen from that impromptu party. Nodding to his presence and taking the bottle, your eyes never left the landscape.

"Up in the sky, all they talk about is the sea and the sunset. There they say how damn cool it is to watch a huge ball of fire," your words gave away that you were in some sort of philosophical mood right now. And Naga was someone who usually didn't mind having dialogs like this with you.

"Sarge having an existential crisis?", Naga cracked a joke at your philosophical mood as he opened his own beer.