Hazel sat cross legged on his parent’s porch.

His mom brought him a cup of apple juice and he took it in cupped hands, “thanks.”

Was it weird to drink juice at 21?

He held the glass cup towards the sun. At the right angle, it looked so much like beer.

Like beer, clenched in trembling fists under cold yellow lights.

He heard a sharp creak behind him and spun, juice splashing over his lap and floor.

“Oh, hun,” his mother chuckled, “Did I startle you?”

“Yeah,” Hazel touched his leg and felt down the bandages to the nub where his foot used to be.

His mother worked her lips into a frown, “You haven’t said much about the war.”

“We’re winning,” Hazel shrugged.

“What was it like?”

Hazel shrugged.

She couldn’t understand him.

She left him and he continued sitting still on the porch. Around evening, an old friend walked up the gravel road and waved to Hazel before unlatching the front gate.

Hazel stood up and pulled his crutches to himself.

“No, don’t get up for me.” His friend waved him back.

“I’ve wanted to walk. Been stuck here all day.”

As the two left the house and made their way through the neighborhood, Hazel found himself irritated by the houses, how clean and neat and organized they were.

“How’d you lose the leg?” The friend asked.

“I got shrapnel lodged in my foot. By the time they saw me, it was infected.”

“Oh,” His friend said.

Hazel limped along, slower now.

“A lot of people are unhappy with how the war went. If the neighbors give you looks, it’s just because of that. They don’t hate you.” The friend said in a kind, overly understanding sort of way.

Hazel clenched his jaw. They’d all seen him off with cheers and applause when he’d left 8 months before. Everyone thought it was a just war. Before the war turned ugly. Before it became complicated. Before it became war.

He exhaled loudly.

“What was the war like?”

Hazel scoffed, “like war.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you want to know?” Hazel snapped, “I had to kill people. Probably some deserved it but some didn’t. I had to!” He felt his lips go tight like a snarl, and felt a cold rage rise in his chest. He couldn’t say more, his friend couldn’t understand.

“You’ve changed.” His friend said quietly.

“No,” Hazel replied, “I never belonged here anyway.”