17. Scars
There is a slick cataract that coats memories of unpleasant events; for example, after Hughes' death (no one says "murder," but they are thinking it), the world seemed to take on a pale blue haze, as if life without photographs of a smiling four year-old constantly brandished by a manically grinning man was now a useless, bereft existence.
They pretended nothing had changed, of course. But when the light bent through the windows at odd angles one would glance ate Hawkeye and the colonel and think that a peculiar kind of heaviness had settles between them, as if some mere distance between them had blurred the further into obscurity.