“Aren’t you?” he asked, glancing at Tomás through the rear-view mirror. His voice was rough, but not unkind.
Tomás nodded, barely moving his head. “Yes, I am. Heading home after a long time.”
The driver nodded back, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew the sacrifices that came with serving far from home, the letters that were written and sent, the ones that never arrived, and those that spoke of things only the heart could understand.
