Subtotal: $
Checkout
“Out, George!” yelled my boss to the man at the end of the counter.
That closing time ritual went on as long as I worked at the ice cream store.
“Who is that guy?” I asked one day.
Every day he’d order a single coke, then sit there, eyes down, saying nothing.
Out of the St. Louis cold, I supposed.
“George? Some guy who lost his brother in the war. Now he wanders the alleys at night looking for him.
He’ll be out there in the daytime too, once the weather gets nice. Guy’s crazy.”
Some years later I saw George again.
Walking in an alley.
Looking for his lost brother to come home.
Contributed By
John W. Davis
A retired Army counterintelligence officer with thirty-seven years in the military and Army civil service, Davis is the author of Rainy Street Stories, his reflections on wars and conflicts that he participated in, and the moral and ethical choices war forces upon those engaged in it.
You have ${x} free ${w} remaining.
This is your last free article this month.
We hope you've enjoyed your free articles.
This article is reserved for subscribers.
Already a subscriber? Sign in
Try 3 months of unlimited access. Start your FREE TRIAL today. Cancel anytime.
Rosemary
One can't help but hope "George " and others like him find their peace of mind once again someday