His name tag read REESE.
He was a staff sergeant, perhaps twenty-seven, with broad shoulders and an expression suggesting he expected everyone to obey him.
“Ma’am, what are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Having lunch,” I replied.
His friends laughed.
“This is a military installation,” he continued. “You need permission to be here. Did you wander in looking for a free meal?”
I placed my spoon beside the bowl.
“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
That answer irritated him.
“Then show me your identification.”
Continue on the next page:
