There was a soldier in the locker room this morning, putting on fatigues. Next to him was an old Mexican man, putting on jeans. They were making small talk and stepping into their pants.
"I work part time for the Guard," said the soldier, and lined up his boots on the wet floor. "For my day job I'm a private investigator."
He loosened the laces and put his feet into the boots, then tightened them up again. "You know, like a detective."
"Ohh," said the Mexican man.
"Yeah, I've been part time with the Guard for 13 years. You know, I just try to make a difference."
The Mexican man looked over and nodded.
The soldier closed the blue locker door and latched it. "I guess that's all you can do, right?"
The Mexican man had gone to the mirror, and was combing his hair with both hands, like a sad child petting a rabbit. He looked back in the mirror and nodded again.
"So we'll see," said the soldier, as he went to the door with his towel and stepped into the corridor. "I guess we'll see."