Don’t be the woman who hands it back.”

“Ma’am, did you read the effective date on it?”

Her chin came up.

The chain loosened, and she started over with it, once around, twice around.

“Effective dates are for clerks,” she said, and went down the stairs without looking back at me.

The garrison breakroom smelled of burnt coffee and floor wax.

Private Dewitt sat at the corner table with a sandwich from the machine and a photograph he kept standing upright against his paper cup.

“Her name is going to be Daisy,” he said.