Staring at the knife that killed brethren of the country, they tried to rebel against who I'm being paid to work for. My eyes start to burn and tear up, letting the liquid consume my eyes and fall down my cheeks dramatically and slowly. The water begins to fall on the cold metallic surface, and I suddenly realize I should be celebrating the war is over. The goverment was overthrown only to have the cycle repeat over and over again, like nothing happened and the sacrifices were nothing. It had been now dubbed the unified states of north america, but please, its still Canada Mexico and the USA, nothing changed, guns had been outlawed so long ago, they were seen as bad as chemical weapons, tools of war against other countries strictly. Walking outside with the wild grain against my toes had hurt, the stalks whipped my legs earning a wince as memories had resurfaced. Stepping on a thorn, I stopped and removed it remembering ripping a knife out of my foot. Then I reached the spot where the old rebels met. He was there and my heart skipped a beat my face turning scarlet and devised a plan I'd wimp out on eventually. But instead he took his hand grabbed mine and intertwined my fingers in his then looked the other way. He mumbled"I couldn't have the general get kidnapped or anything." He knows full well I can take care of myself. I giggle and take the trek to lunch with him. The amber grains following the sun and us. I guess I don't mind the outcome of the war after all...