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Summary
There's a boy still running across that street. Sixteen years old, ammunition boxes in his hands, his corporal's blood cooling against his cheek. He's been running for almost twenty years. The man who came back, Twilight, Loid Forger, whoever he is now, he left that boy behind.
Had to.
You can't build a life carrying a child soldier with you. Except he's still there. In the dreams. In the flinch when artillery sounds like thunder. The war ended but the boy never stopped running.
Never made it across.
The man walks through Berlint and pretends he's whole, for the mission, but he left half of himself bleeding in that street.