(Author’s note: I’ve been a year at my job now. I am quite pleased. Celebrate with me in the Fictioneers!)
Only The Young
by Miles H. Rost
Bradley turned nine today.
The party was spectacular. His friends played in the yard, ate hot dogs and burgers, devoured cake like it was nothing.
After it was all done, he sat by my side, watching his favorite evening TV show, Tour of Duty.
“Daddy, will I ever have to go to war?”
I looked down at him, my eyes remembering the days when I asked that question.
“Not unless you want to.”
“Are you sure?”
“They don’t force you to go anymore. Not like when I was 18.”
He curled up next to me, as we silently finished the show.