You're at a small fancy bar, there is light jazz playing. You sit down in a nice long black dress, your legs are crossed as you sip on your drink. A tall man then walks over to you, he sits down next you.

He immediately feels comfortable with you and starts talking. He opens up to you about him being in the war, his guilt and shame over committing a war crime.

I think about it every night, it's like I can't get over it. Thing is, I can get sent back anytime they call for a draft.