Dave

There’s a beat before the report that lasts about a year, where Bob lifts up the bottle to see if his drink exploded in the Anbar heat. Then he notices the hole in his IBA. Finally, that chagrined smile we’ve seen a thousand times with its now familiar snapshot story: “I’m a dumb-ass but I am fine.” He’s smiling, relaxed, now falling, already gone, when the sound of the shot splits the air. “Sniper!” someone yells.