I could sit here and tell you that I know who I am, where I’ve been and where I’m gonna go, but anything I said would be a lie. Truth is, I don’t know where I came from. I’m pretty sure I have military training and a little brother somewhere, and that I love sushi, but I’d never eat tuna.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I can see children hiding from me -- from other men like me, men with guns in army fatigues -- and I wonder if I was the good guy or the bad guy. G says it doesn’t really make a difference. She hasn’t seen what I’ve seen.
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I’m still waiting.
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