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  • I'm on my way home, moving away track by track. I can feel the distance growing. And it will be nothing compared to Afghanistan. I guess I feel it more now because I'm the one moving. Every stop I think of getting off and going back. For another hour, just to look at him again. The last things I saw were his backpack, his jeans and his head hung down. Not sure if the latter had anything to do with me.

    Three weeks I've known him, and I just want to be the smallest part of his world, even if it's one I can't fully understand. He said he hopes I didn't go with him because I'm afraid he'll never come back. That's not why. I went because I couldn't not go. More time when I thought we had no time was impossible to pass up. I'm drawn to him, no matter the circumstances. I'll take every minute I can get.

    Three weeks I've known him, and now thirteen months will pass before we can find out what any of this means. Maybe nothing, I'm not sure. But I know I'll think about it every day until I find out.
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