November 2026
The woman, somewhat gaunt, wore a pillbox hat the color of blood with a black-and-white checkered coat. Hunched over on the narrow wooden chair, she wrapped her long, weathered fingers around a scrapbook. Brittle blonde hair locked onto her hat's bottom edge in a continuous tubular flip.
General Leonard Jacobs studied the woman briefly; then entered the room. Filtering out the melon green walls by habit, he walked behind his desk, sat down in his comfortable leather office chair, and reached out a thick, knotted hand.
Fumbling with her book, the woman extended her own. It was icy cold; she had a weak, hesitant handshake.
General Jacobs stared long and hard with steely blue eyes at the visitor to his office in the United States military hospital. Her height was average. She was maybe twenty-five-years-old but looked forty; had puffy, smudged circles under her pale-green bloodshot eyes. Wrinkles creased her cheeks like droughty riverbed cracks.
When the General addressed his guest, it was brief and to the point, "What brings you here, Mrs. Walker?"
"It's Jack."
"I expected as much. Can you be more specific?"
"I'd like to see him."
"It's been six months since he returned. You should see him. I'm sure it's been hard for him, not seeing you all these months."
"I wanted to see him."
"I know. But he's not right, you understand. You'll both need to adjust to the change."
After closely inspecting the face and hunched over posture of Alison Walker for a few more seconds than were really comfortable for the soldier's wife, the General rose to his feet, pushing his knuckles into his hard wooden desk and his chair out from underneath him. He walked past the massive desk and told Mrs. Walker to follow.
As they traveled down a long hallway, forest green carpet with white walls, infrequent staff saluted in passing. The General acknowledged them with a practiced, nearly imperceptible salute.
When he reached a room at the end of the passage, the General rapped with bare knuckles on the open door, then entered.
"Good afternoon, son."
)
