Standing six feet tall with light baby blue eyes and dirty blond hair, Joe McGuiness stood out in public. Of course, it’s easy to have such a dominating presence when you’re the tallest man in any room.
A former military officer with an affable smile. He engaged in all manners of socialization and conversation. He seemed to know much about everything yet was never quite an expert in one area or another.
This was his trick. To hide behind tidbits of fact and knowledge. All the while masking the sadness behind the eyes. The memory of his first deployment was wrought with violence and trauma. As expected when only nineteen. He departed from Spain to Morrocco before jumping aboard a train bound for Namibia.
A chilled glass of champagne in Casa Blanca was more memorable than the first desert tiger he saw or the sound of 75 mm artillery shells.
He tried not to notice the voices in his mind chattering. Such filthy and mean voices, always. He only wanted silence, peace of mind, and a warm embrace. But he couldn’t escape his self-constructed cage.
Did he even want to?
He did well to pretend that he was fine. His trauma could only burst in the safety of self-isolation.
Standing by the dining room window, he watched a crow perched on the far end of the ledge. A faint bell rings from deep within the home. Dinner time.