There's something I've never told you before.”
“Hmm? Go ahead.”
“When they play the national anthem and raise the flag, I always shed tears.”
“What? You cry? Isn't that a bit melodramatic?”
“No, I'm not crying. I'm shedding tears.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Of course.”
“All right, if you say so. Then why do you shed tears? We had a flag-raising ceremony every Monday at school. How many tears did you have?”
“Better to shed tears than blood.”
“Speak up. I can't hear you.”
“The flag is stained with blood, hot blood.”
On the hillside, two soldiers, their faces streaked with smoke and dust, gazed at the national flag flying in the wind at the center of the barracks.
