Small stones tumbled down the precipice as he peered at the water below. Colder than he remembered, wind whipped the salty ocean spray against his skin. He fought back a raspy cough.
The last time he had gazed upon these waters, they were filled with the floating bodies of broken men, their oil-coated uniforms aflame. Explosions and screams filled his mind with smoke and fire, with the charred flesh that slid from his friend’s wrist and folded, soft and warm, inside his hand.
I couldn’t join you then, he thought. But soon. I’ll see you soon.
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