War has become an integrated part of our everyday lives. We see it on the news, we read about it in history, and we accept it when our loved ones go off to fight. Many fight for there country. Many fight for there loved ones. Some fight to make a change. But the one constant in all war's . . . Is that people will die. On both sides. In this instance, Carl was a man who fought for his family. He was a man who knew nothing but pain and violence. He'd seen the worst that life had to offer, and was stronger because of it. Carl, was a soldier. He was a son, a brother, a husband, and above all else, a father. Now, it's time for him to return home . . . Carl had finally flown home, and upon arrival in the states he had found himself feeling like a fish out of water. He stood in the center of the airport in his army fatiuges, the left sleeve cut short and folded up over his elbow making it painfully obviouse why he had returned from duty. But he didn't care he was home. As odd as the hustle and bustle of the airport was what felt the wierdest was the drowning noise that accompanied it. It felt odd so many people walking past him on cellphones and playing music in there ears. Across the airport the sound of some old arcade shooter brought him to attention as some kid gunned down his virtual adversaries. It was overwelming to the point where he had to get out. Grabbing his duffel bag he made his escape from the noise and clamber of society. Carl ended up taking a taci home, the ride hom was worse then the flight. It was friday, and he knew from experience that his family had held a family barbeque every friday sense as long as he could remember. He wanted to return home to his family, of course there were no doubts about that. but deep down in the back of his mind he knew that there would be no hiding the missing arm from them. Yes. Carl was missing an arm. Last time he saw his family he had two arms two legs, and all his faculties in order . . . But now he was a broken man. His family would now doubt be shocked. Scratch that. They would be mortified to find him wounded so. Then he would have to explain how it happenned and why He hadn't called them five month's ago when it happenned. So there He stood. On the front lawn of his house, the smell of barbeque filling the air. The sound of his family laughing in the backyard worked it's way to his ear's and brought a smile to his face. Slowly but surely Carl walked around the side of the house to the backyard and opened the old chainlink gate with a long creek. He stepped into view of his family and dropped his duffel bag to the grass with a grinn playing at his face before saying out loud to his unsuspecting family . . . "Hey guys . . . Got room for one more at the table?"