(The Things They Carried, reimagined from the perspective of Ted Lavender) Boom-down, he said. Like cement. I watched curiously as Kiowa described my death, a death which I had no memory of. I glanced over at the hollow faces of my fellow soldiers. They looked more dead than I felt. It’s a strange feeling, to be conscious but not alive, to see your own body on the ground with a bullet through it. Strange, but not frightening as one might expect it to be. It feels … light. I’m not sure why I’m still here. My body has left for home, yet I remain with my platoon. I guess a part of me feels like I can’t leave. At least not yet, not until it’s over and I know that they’re safe. As I watched them move forward, I felt a bit of the weight I once carried return to me. Although this time it felt different, because I didn’t feel the strain on my back, I felt it in my soul. The lightness I had felt earlier was the release of the weight of my life, but as I watched the other soldi...