It was the kind of sunset that would be painfully beautiful had it been in any other sky. He faced it with his back, polishing the steely barrel of his rifle, a dog-eared black and white photo resting on his lap. His jaw line was a cable stretched from a wrecking ball to the collar of his taupe and beige fatigues.
"Is that your wife, Sarge?" I offered, my wavering voice revealing more than I meant it to.
"Listen Pierce," He said. "There is no perfect woman out there. You make your own soul mate. My advice to you is to go out there and find yourself a piece of pussy that works good for you, and try to love the woman attached to it like she is the only woman in the universe. Your heart will fall into line soon enough. And you'll pray to God every night that you just don't get killed , so you can go home and make sure she never feels the same pain that you are feeling right now."
And with that the sun snatched back its glory, and ducked out of the reach of the sky.
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