Me: Aadmi hai na tu fir sharmata kyu hai? (Ain’t you a man? Why are you so shy?)Rohan: Main… Nahi… Woh… (I… no… that…)Me: Kya main… ma...n kar raha hai? Kabhi aurat dekhi nahi hain kya? (Why are you stammering. Haven’t you seen a woman?)Rohan: Main ghabra gaya tha. (I got scared.)Me: Kaisa fattu hain tu. Chal tujhe mera ghulam banati hun main aaj. (You are such a loser. I am going to make you my slave.)Then I held his shirt collar and took him to my room.Rohan: Aapka ka paati aaye to gadbad ho. I bet you have a nice welcome when you get home.”Frowning, George leaned against the sheet of plywood and looked around to see if he would be overheard. He said, “To tell the truth, coming home after three weeks on the road isn’t all that much fun. The kids don’t remember me that well. They’re just three and five years old. The wife spends all of her time with them and it is rough on her. She never gets a break. As a result, she’s never in a good mood when I get home. I usually get hit with all. Recommending he speak to Charlotte, but that if during the week he still felt down and needed to talk to someone, he should give her a call. Finally parting with a friendly hug, slightly longer than a normal hug, Callan seemingly reluctant to let go of his comfort blanket.The drama now over, I headed into the shower. Needing the rejuvenating and awakening power of the hot jets. Also needing a little time and space to get my head together. To think through what I’d just heard. To soak and work. The shot from behind surprised me and the ball tore through my flapping shirt, yanking me aside. I yelled and ran at the man kneeling among the fallen muskets and trying to quickly reload. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands just as I reached him and drove my bayonet through the base of his neck and out his back. He fell and rolled over twice, spraying blood and kicking his feet.I stopped, breathing hard while I wiped off and sheathed my bayonet and put my hands to reloading my musket. I.