He stopped the white Volvo. It was a sunny December day in 2006, and they’d been driving through Burleson as he prepared to finish his second Iraq tour after two weeks of leave. Stacey looked out the window at the clear sky and leafless trees. A petite brunette with dimpled cheeks and a soft girlish voice, she said nothing. Her eyes welled with tears.
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Best Feature from the Houston Press Club, finalist for Columbia University’s Dart Awards for Excellence in Coverage of Trauma