Happy 21st

Happy 21st
-An extremely short story for friends gone, but never forgotten.

Danny squints his eyes into the blinding florescent lights that line the moisture fogged bathroom mirror as he lathers up and runs a razor over his face. He feels refreshed and ready to go, having had a short nap and a pleasantly hot shower.

It's a little anticlimactic, having been coming for so long. You wait, anticipating the day with relish for so long. And then when it does finally come, it's not that big a deal. He doesn't look older, at least not to his own eyes. Oh well, he'd better hurry. The guys from work are coming to pick him up and take him out. Can't keep them waiting.

Going back to his room, he picks out a fresh pair of pants and a clean shirt; it always pays to look you best. Lacing up his boots, he grabs the rest of his stuff and heads out the door as he hears the truck pull up. Outside, it’s a little hot, but he won’t complain. You only turn twenty-one once, right? Getting in the back, his friends shake his hand and congratulate him in loud, happy voices.

Looking out the window at the blowing dust and angry faces as they drive off, he sighs. The jubilant voices have stopped now, replaced by alert concentration. Loading his rifle and strapping down his helmet, Danny scans the rooftops as they pass by.

Happy birthday Danny, 12/07/83 - 12/08/04, from Baghdad, Iraq.