A man I know is back in the world for a little while.

I’ve known him since he was a child. I always called him kid, now I call him brother.

His laugh is wrong.
His eyes move every time there’s a noise.
Shooting hoops has become a full contact sport.
He doesn’t sleep through the night.
He doesn’t like to talk much, but he doesn’t like to be alone.
The part that affects me the most is that look he gets when he does talk about this war, I’ve seen it in his fathers eyes and in the mirror.

— Why? —
There were no weapons of mass destruction.
There were no ties to Al Quaeda.
Have thousands died or worse just so Haliburton and their ilk could turn a profit?
— Why? —