As I stared at him in his casket, dressed in his uniform, I had the overwhelming urge to shake him. Shake him awake because they did so well covering his wounds he just looked like he was sleeping. I wanted to punch him in the shoulder like I always did and tell him to stop faking. Stop joking around because this wasn't fucking funny. I so badly wanted to, but all I could do was cry until I felt sick and drained.
