My day started with a knock on my apartment door. I shared my apartment with my friend Aaron Jameson, a US Army private. I myself, at one point, was in the Army. I was special ops. Aaron and I joined together. He went to infantry, and I made spec ops. Our units worked together closely, so I got to see him a lot. Don't get me wrong, we're not dating. Aaron might as well be my brother.
Anyways, back on track.
I went to open the door, expecting it to be the neighbors or something. Instead I see Aaron's unit commander and my entire complex floor standing outside to watch. I scan the man's uniform. That's the ceremonial uniform... "hello, sir" I say, and he nods. "Anne-joelle Stanton, I am here today to regretfully inform you of the death of private Aaron Jameson." I tense up and stare straight ahead, unable to process it. "A-are you sure it's him..?" I ask, and the commander nods. "I'm sorry, AJ. I wish it wasn't him" he says. I nod and start to close the door. The commander turns and leaves, and I lean against the door, falling to the floor and bawling. I hiss in pain, my body-racking sobs irritating the bullet in my hip. The thing that got me discharged. The thing that took me from Aaron. I clear my face of tears, rememberimg my promise to him. I shake my head and stand up, going to my room and packing a bag for about three days. I make sure to pack a nice black dress, seeing as the army took my uniforms back, and leave the house. After I call a cab, my neighbors come out to see me. I smile at them all, saying my goodbyes, and get into the cab. "Take me to JFK" I say.
