by Q Lindsey Barrett
Weeks of hell in paradise. At least that's what others called San Diego. Paradise. Bah.
He is a small-town cattle-country lizard, a lizard broiling in that sun, forced to shed his skin, the layers of self stripped away by his drill sergeant. Self being an obstacle to war.
Freshly scrubbed and oiled surface-slick, his hidden layers scaley and hard beneath dress whites, warp-speed Mustang home, parents, girlfriend, gone. Point of departure, one night's leave in the cool lizard light of San Francisco, she appears, a lingering vision of home, of life before hell. That's how she tricks him into marrying her. At least that's what he thinks as the Mustang takes him to the wharf after the ceremony at City Hall, to board the ship that will take him to war. BB King wailing on the radio, one hour wed, the thrill is gone.
Q Lindsey Barrett lives in a chronically-under-construction zone, as she is addicted to remodeling her sixty year old house.