Probably a poem. She thought to herself. Sitting at the table was her and her best friend Friday. Friday sat across from her and asked Delta the quest...on that was consuming her. "What are you writing?"She didn't look up at her. She focused on her work. "Probably a free verse poem." Can I see it?" Friday asked."Fine but it's not finished." She handed over her black journal with a white cross on the front to Friday. She had only a few lines down.Everyone is different, not everyone believes the. On one such day, when I was getting terribly bored, I decided to go to my relatives who lived in a village. It was my hubby’s elder brother who was living there. I decided to drop down there without informing them to give them some surprise. I usually wear trendy clothes and don’t feel shy about modern dresses. And since it was summer, I took only a few modern clothes that weren’t too stuffy and set about the journey as I did not plan to stay for more than 2 to 3 days. It was a more difficult. He had a point, but I wasn’t eager to see my country enter the war. I had already made several trips to the front – well, close to the front, anyway – in the company of French or British colleagues, and I could see that it was horrible business indeed. Finally, we made our way to the dance floor, where I took my lovely wife in my arms and we moved somewhat gracefully to the music. Neither one of us were accomplished dancers, but we enjoyed the feel of being together in something of a romantic. As she too was part of Camp Shackleton, Samantha felt she should be here, in her full dress greys, shiny black Sam Browne belt and boots, and grey wedge cap, her dark brown hair in a long braid hanging stiffly down her back. After Morning Inspection she'd head back to the pod she shared with her father and change into her daily uniform of grey jacket, shirt, pants, and kepi, with shiny black boots. The Colonel had actually left it to her discretion whether she should attend or not, but she felt.