First time taking a round is like poppin’ your cherry sophomore year with Sharon What’s-her-name in the back of dad’s clunker. A lot of blind, awkward fondling at first; writhing like a fish out of water, heaving heavy for oxygen. You start cussing like a sailor and talking hard to cover the anxiety and restore confidence that everything’s okay. After that it’s best to just start plugging holes.
Within a few winks, it’s over.
The world returns to normal.
Except now you’ve got it out of the way.
Clean up the mess.
A selection from a war-theme short story.