Sometimes the world is OK. Like when you've got hot plates waiting for you when you return at midnight from a twelve hour mounted patrol (the third in three days), along with letters from Jake, some fourth graders, and a complete stranger from Ohio. Like when you're watching the day's filth and grime run down your tired body and into the shower drain.

Like when, your belly finally full and your body clean at last, as weary as you are, you put on Rilo Kiley's "Spectacular Views" and sit in the cool desert darkness for a while, watching the F/A-18s take off on white plumes of fire, chased by their own booming voices.

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