Seamus blew past Arnold and Fletcher sitting on the sofa. The dog came to a skidding stop at the front windows to investigate something of interest outside: a passerby, a squirrel, a blowing leaf …
A clatter sounded as the newspaper fell through the letterbox. “Paperboy’s here,” Arnold said and groaned in discomfort when he rose to his feet. He shuffled to the front door and collected the paper from the foyer. He stopped halfway back to the sofa, studying the folded newspaper in his hand.
“Everything okay, Dad?”
Arnold shook himself from his trance and made eye contact with his son. “Huh? Yeah, yeah. Don’t know if you recognize any of these boys.” He handed the paper to Fletcher.
The paper unfolded during the transfer, revealing the faces of all the deceased killed in the war, their na
