I pulled it off the stack of abandoned binders and opened it. “Order of the Purple Heart, awarded to Specialist Joshua A. Walker for wounds sustained in combat in the Kandahar Province of Afghanistan.” Exactly where my father had been killed. Wrong place. Wrong time. Just like me at this very moment. I brought it all up into my arms and carried it into his room, leaving the uniforms on the bed and propping the award on top. He’d been the one wounded, but somehow I’d taken a fatal shot straight through my soul. The state championship picture mocked me from the wall, so I pulled it down and left
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