Casualty of a Forgotten War

I didn’t mention this at the time, but the “scruffy Jesus-looking fellow” from my dream a few weeks ago is a real person. I had seen him that morning; he rides the same bus I do. Rode the same bus. I thought that was the first time I’d ever seen him, but now I remember that I’ve seen him once or twice on the bus home.

I hadn’t exchanged ten words with him. I don’t really like talking to strangers so I usually confine myself to polite greetings, unless they start talking to me first.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve talked to him a little more, mostly about the weather. You know. Small talk.

Yesterday he mentioned that Saturday would be his last day on the job. Today I commented, “That must be kinda nice.”

He said, “Not really.”

I know that he works outside, some kind of construction job, I imagine. I figured his contract was finished and he was going to be out of work for a while. I said, “Yeah. Kinda nice, kinda not.”

He took a puff on his cigarette, considering that, then shook his head. “No. Not where I’m going, it’s not nice.”

“Where are you going?”
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