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The Ride

The sadness surrounded the boy, threatening ambush. Thinking back to his final teen years his mother is crying. Her only son had days before he left for Iraq. Maybe she knew something the boy did not. Perhaps she was mourning the boy. Did she know he would not come back entirely himself? Oh, the joyous smiles he would flash with confidence. Jokes he told would instantly lighten any mood. Were these moments perishing before her eyes? He was absent to the conversations taking place deep in his mother's heart. This drive seemed longer than usual. The young man, not old enough to buy a drink but old enough to take another's life - according to his country, was growing impatient. In his eyes life



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