I could never have expected to survive the explosion that the doctors told me was from my own grenade hit by a sniper's bullet. My face was gone along with my right ear, my hair, my nose, lips, eyelid and thumb. My fingers were hanging on tendons. It has been 30 years and counting since that day of living hell. I often say that it wouldn't be so bad if it was beneath my clothes, but no, the devastation is out there where no one can miss it.
Children cry and turn, running into things.
It probably doesn't help when I growl and jerk my head at them. Then there was the guy staring at me while he drove his car into the Dairy Queen. I was laughing what was left of my head off. The light I was at kept changing colors, and the guy behind me was changing colors as well. It dawned on me that I better go or he might hit me, so I took off only to see I was running the light.