He stroked his wispy white beard and looked up at her quietly, in an almost kindly way, that frightened her.
"So. It will be four years in March since we invaded, thousands are dead, and you still have more to say about the Iraq War?" he said.
Georgette nodded and advanced hesitantly toward Sam, uncertainty taking form in her mind at this new expression on his face. The glow went from her heart, the warm fantasy of battle which had sent her here on winged feet. She half-grasped what was in Sam's mind as he mourned the deaths of thousands. She could not wholly understand or analyze what he was feeling, but it seemed almost as if she too had been brushed by whispering ghosts. She was seeing through Sam's eyes the passing of more than 3,000 brave Americans, and the grievous wounding of thousands more.
Sam spoke again, his voice light and cool.
"You haven't lost anyone in your family. That makes it nice for you, doesn't it?"
"Oh, how can you say such things," she cried, stung. "You know how I loved them all!"
"No, I can't say I do. Most unexpected given your stinginess with veterans' benefits."
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