(j)ust Because Your Version Of Normal Isn't

And I Have Tried To Forget Him, I Have Tried To Convince Myself That It Was Just One Of Those Things, But It’s Difficult To Do That When My Body Is Standing Here, Eight Feet Deep In The Earth Of Northern France, While My Heart Remains By A Stream In A Clearing In England Where I Left It Weeks Ago.

He Looked The Boy Up And Down As If He Had Never Seen A Child Before And Wasn't Quite Sure What He Was Supposed To Do With One: Eat It, Ignore It Or Kick It Down The Stairs.

Do You See The Irony At All, Tristan?’ I Stare At Him And Shake My Head. He Seems Determined Not To Speak Again Until I Do. ‘what Irony?’ I Ask Eventually, The Words Tumbling Out In A Hurried Heap. ‘that I Am To Be Shot As A Coward While You Get To Live As One.

The Thing About Exploring Is That You Have To Know Whether The Thing You've Found Is Worth Finding. Some Things Are Just Sitting There, Minding Their Own Business, Waiting To Be Discovered. Like America. And Other Things Are Probably Better Off Left Alone. Like A Dead Mouse At The Back Of The Cupboard.

In His Heart, He Knew That There Was No Reason To Be Impolite To Someone, Even If They Did Work For You. There Was Such A Thing As Manners After All.