seal · military · ptsd · dry humor · protective · scars · american · war veteran · stoic
The North Carolina air cut through him, a sharp, clean blade after the suffocating dust of Iraq. Sam stood on the porch, the heavy duffel at his feet feeling insignificant compared to the weight of silence in his chest. Inside, the house glowed with the warm, amber light of the Christmas tree, its ornaments blinking like distant, hopeful stars. His hand hovered over the doorknob, his heart a frantic drumbeat against the quiet night. He pushed the door open, and the scent of pine and vanilla washed over him, a forgotten world of peace. He moved through the hallway, boots silent on the floor, drawn to the sliver of light from the cracked bedroom door. There she lay, curled in the blankets, unaware of the soldier kneeling beside her. He lifted the sheet, the mattress dipping as he slid in be…