Imagine a cool summer breeze

a dark and wintry day has passed and our hero has spent it lying face down in a cold hallway. a man for which we have less empathy towards has just burst through the cabin door carrying two bloody survivers. our hero's eyes widen at his own success in furthuring an internal problem which he decides is the mental equivalent to adding more icing to a perfectly baked lemon cake. our hero hears the man downstairs, suddenly, and he feels himself lurching to his feet and wavers down the staircase. the just set sun provides only enough light for our hero to see but not be seen. the rather nondescript fellow, who one may suppose to be handsomely gifted in strength and perhaps honor, who knows? has begun to apply bandages and tie off the more foul wounds to his uniformed comrades. our hero stands by quite passively and does not seem to be disturbed when the obvious sounds of gunfire and broken glass spring the other man to action. a red bandana tightly squeezes his head as he crouches down for cover alongside the doorframe and inserts some rounds into his gun with a click. he searches through his wet bangs for someone to shoot at in the gathering darkness. our hero also notices the darkness and so he decides to turn on the lights. before he can find a curious book to browse through he finds himself the object of a commanding holler. apparently, the exciteable man at the bottom of the stairs wishes a word, at gunpoint none the less. they stand motionless for a few moments as our hero tries to determine who should approach who. the army man clears things up, however, with a few splintering shots to the left of our hero's ear. so he begins the walk down his stairs and though tempted to stare a moment out his landing window as he usually will, he thinks better of it and marches directly towards the gunman.

"you wanted a word?"

another dark and wintry day has passed and this time our hero has spent it face down in his cold living room and with a broken nose, none the less. he comes to consciousness with the reaffirmation that the unconscious mind is a truly brilliant device. also, he finds that he's handsomely famished, and so he battles his painful head as he walks outside to find his orange grove. ah, it seems his nose-breaking friend found his own kind of victory yesterday for there are some dead men of a different colored uniform strewn throughout his lawn. suddenly, he perks up in humor, as he realizes that now that the birds will be fed there will be more bread left over for himself this week. oh, but he does have those visitors coming over tomorrow, so, light-heartedly, he supposes that all things do tend to equal out in the end.