The Sniper Behind The Rifle Knew My Breathing Better Than I Did

over.

For me to weep over.

“I watched them lower your coffin, Sean,” I choked out, the memory raw and visceral. “I held the flag.”

“I know,” he said, and his voice finally broke. The hardness cracked, and the raw pain underneath was exposed. “That was the hardest part. Knowing what I was doing to you. To Mom and Dad.”

“They’re gone, Sean,” I whispered.continue reading …