Her blouse was low-cut and showed ample cleavage. She draped a smock over me and buttonedit around my neck; the touch of her fingers on my skin tingle... oddly.Giving me a once over, she spoke some foreign words I didn?t understand.In a louder voice, she said something else, which made the others laugh.The woman behind the register asked me how I wanted my hair done.For a male soldier in the 82nd, there was really only one answer. ?Highand tight,? I told her. ?Da,? she said to the blonde, who got. Oh, hell, I knew that I was just trying to relieve myself of blame, but I had to do something. Maybe I could make myself believe that cock-and-bull story. If I did, I might feel like the good guy instead of the bad guy.Next time, I was going to try to relieve my headache with the Vicodin that I had been using before the new pain killer was prescribed. As best as I could remember, I did not have these God-awful dreams with the Vicodin. I still had nightmares, but they were the more normal kind. More

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