This is a repost of a chapter from one of my short stories. It wasn’t very popular as far as likes, comments or views. It seems counter intuitive to beat that old dead horse again here. I replay it because much is said about post traumatic stress disorder in service members but it’s not well understood by the public. It can manifest years after the event as the memories suddenly drift in like a cold breeze through a forgotten open door. Internal dialog of scenes long forgotten play out when and wherever they will – triggered by a thought, sound, a vision, a taste or smell.
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