Fredrick scanned his left and right limits thinking about the first poor soul with hostile intent that would pop into his view and get his head blown off with the squeeze of his trigger. The M4 could do no less. Fredrick thinks his head would pop off because he shot expert, and that had to mean something in 19 years of life. He scanned for hours alongside his battle buddy Joel, trying to forget the heat with run off Family Guy references and Kevin Hart one-liners. He chuckled but held his sight and let his mind wander elsewhere. Thoughts of another state, with friends and real American women. Women who asked questions that didn’t involve the next hard time or mission tasks. Stateside, The women would ask the same question a dozen different ways: “Are you happy where you are right now? I mean really happy?”
And of course Fredrick never said a thing, he was still scanning for trouble. He was always scanning for trouble. That’s all he was good for.


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