Wait. Two hands, with five fingers each. Two arms… Two legs and two feet? The sheet covering my lower limbs raised and bumped unevenly, showing the lack of symmetry beneath my torso. I threw the covers back, wanting to know what was wrong with my leg.
I stood up and looked at the hundreds of graves in the cemetery. “You were all brave men,” I said. “It was an honor to go into battle with you. Thank you for your service and your sacrifice. May it not have been in vain.”
This table is set for one, symbolizing some are missing from our ranks. The white tablecloth is for the purity of their intentions for freedom for all. A single red rose is for the blood they shed. A slice of lemon on the plate for the bitterness of their fate. Salt on the plate for all the tears shed for them. An inverted glass cause they can not toast with us. And the empty chair because they are not here.
