James A. Ardaiz
but it was personal for him. He stuck his hand out. Holding a grudge wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Better to be friendly with Durham than continue as enemies. “I’ll take care of it, Sergeant.” Kim walked out of the HQ and pulled his fatigue cap over his closecropped hair. That was part of the trouble with being near the ocean. It was great to look at, but the nights were cold. He walked back towards the barracks, listening to the crunch of gravel beneath his boots. He knew what Durham thought of him. But the Durhams of this little world were in charge, and he had to live with it. That didn’t mean he had to let them get inside his head. He was a good soldier. He was a better soldier than most of the men around him. He knew it and, he suspected, so did they. Maybe someday I’ll get my chance.
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