Love In War

“So, your sister cute?”

The soldier next to me has a vile leer with several missing teeth, like some troll out of a children’s book. The smell coming from him is atrocious. His breath alone makes me cringe as he speaks. For the past several hours, he’s plagued me with questions about my mother and sister, or about girls I’ve slept with. I keep ignoring him, but he just grins and keeps asking, his questions getting more and more personal. I hadn’t realized such people existed. Instead of listening, I focus my attention on my boots. I can safely observe those without making eye contact.