He sits in the sand drawing pictures, things which remind him of home. His back resting on the tank in the sand, he quietly wipes the tear off his cheek.
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Looking around before he stands, he scans the horizon for something askew. Placing his hat back on he straightens up. Walking slowly over to a tent, where his buddies are playing cards like nothing is wrong he sits beside them on a cot.
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"You playing’ Jones?"
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"Nah, Weezel, I send my money home" he says and he touches the top of his hat, where his little boys picture stays always. 13
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