Chapter One-Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect Part I
And here I dreamt I was a soldier
And I marched the streets of Birkenau
And I recall in spring
The perfume that the air would bring
To the indolent town
He knew what he was signing up for when he agreed to return, but in the beginning he was still a little bit pissed. His dreams were a reality once again, and not in the good way. He marched the Afghani streets as Farsi buzzed in his ears, wishing he were holding anything but a rifle.
They were situated in a lazy town just west of Kabul. The houses were falling apart due to neglect and violence, and the streets were practically made of dust, leaving no question that there was no yellow brick road to follow to salvation.
The late spring weather was not unlike the weather back home. Home. He had tried to refrain from using the word so often. Yes, home meant America, meant DC, meant his apartment, but it also meant her. At this point a collection of Indonesian islands would be more home to him than any of those other places just because she was there.
After smelling nothing but gun powder, sweat, and burning rubber for the past few weeks, he almost didn't recognize a new scent. It smelled like spruce and rosewood, sweet and just like her. Every time he'd wrapped his arms around her body he could smell it, and he embraced himself on instinct. He heard gunshots slice the silence and saw fire light up the sky, and the lazy town was active once again.