For several years, Sean had been a sniper in the US Army, at Mogadishu, starting in 94. The good times... When things ran well, because you expected they weren't going to, and then... With every shot, it seemed there was some more... Something... Not real. Some way he was controlling everything; who and what saw the light, and who never saw it coming, and who lived to the next day, unscathed. There was something he dimly remembered about... information. He had been held at gunpoint, and waterboarded, and... Little glimpses of it all, sounds and feelings and shocks. They seemed as if all there was of him, for all else was spinning out, faster than the semi, faster than... He had to tell them something, and he did. Was it because he was a sniper? The growing fears, the children, ... The boss wanted him. Sh, he hoped it was good... "Sean, were sorry, but we just don't have any room these days. It's hard for all of us in these troubling times. You are one of our most prized employees", his boss started-- "Laid off, my a. Fk you and this whole fng company. off." Sean raged from the kitschy, professional room, breaking both the door handle and his chair in his wake of fury. He threw away that tie, that expletive tie. He just lost his expletive job. They called it being laid off. No, he was expletive fired. Everybody was these days. Hell, if they gave an dn about me, I would still be there. Right now, making a few bucks an hour, filing papers or something. He usually wasn't like this. What happened?