“You
look too young for Vietnam.”
“I
looked old when I got back.”
She smiled. You could see the
booze in her smile, too. “Peter
Pan. You told Ellen you wanted to be
Peter Pan.”
“Unh-hunh.”
“That’s crap. Stay a little boy
forever.”
“It’s not age. Childhood, maybe. All the good things are in childhood. Innocence.
Loyalty. Truth. You’re eighteen years old. You’re sitting in a rice paddy. Most guys give it up. I decided eighteen was too young to be old.”
(from The Monkey’s
Raincoat by Robert Crais)
.
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