The body no longer felt. Only the sound. Only the ringing in his ears, as if a shell had exploded inside his skull. The earth trembled like it was feverish, and every breath was met with pain, so sharp that it made him want to scream. But there was not even enough strength for that

He lay in the mud, his mouth half-open, gasping for air that was too scarce. Mud in his teeth, blood in his mouth. Somewhere, someone was shouting—perhaps his name. Perhaps not. He no longer knew. Somewhere, shells exploded, the roar of artillery blending into a single, endless void

A soldier. Yes. He was only nineteen. Or twenty. He was from Iowa. He had a younger brother and a dog named Max. He never wanted to be a hero—he only wanted to return home. But now, home seemed like a myth. As if he had invented it