Commentary
Sometimes they’re everywhere. I see them in my dreams; I see them in someone else’s face. I sometimes see the back of someone’s head, the way the tapered haircut might make him look like every other 20-something male in a chow hall or formation, and for just a moment, there’s a ray of hope. My stomach drops; I think it’s an old friend, a familiar face. I want to run up and give them a warm embrace ... and then the guy turns around and I see more than a profile. It’s not who I thought it was.
