The plane touched down in the heat and the casket was heavy. Men carried it off the jet with stiff arms and steady steps. No one spoke. No one had to. The widow stood by with her hands clenched into fists and her eyes dry—not because there were no tears left, but because she'd used them all up.The husband was dead. The father was gone. The body i

There is a kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from labor. It comes from vigilance — a state of constant readiness, like a soldier in the trenches long after the guns have quieted. You’re not waiting for peace. You’re waiting for the next shot, the next accusation, the next forced explanation for simply existing.They’ve built the world t