They sat in the garden. It was a rare afternoon where the temperature made it pleasant to be outdoors.
‘Where did you go in the war?’
The answer came as a gesture. One hand rising and whirling around.
It was enough of an answer. Specific place names contained moments, and moments contained complicated memories, marbled with pain.
James Lanternman writes movie reviews, fiction, essays, and moonlit thoughts. Reach him at [email protected].