Personal Narrative-Vietnam War

This inability isn’t surprising. Matt had been born and bred in apathy and continued the tradition. He was from a highway town that stayed alive on fast food joints and motels for motorists passing through to get to places more interesting. These towns cling to life on the interstate and they bloom and wilt on the whim of the Federal Highway Commission. In the cars zooming by, his hometown invoked a Midwestern nostalgia of simpler times and better people but on any closer examination these little towns are mostly welfare checks and crumbling brick.
He was not a native and that made him a rarity. Most of the people there had lived generations on the same dirt. His parents were refugees of the Iran-Iraq war. They had fled Tehran on borrowed funds after their apartment had been leveled by an Iraqi shell, a casualty of the War of the Cities. His hawk eyed mother stood on the street, her child clutched close to her, staring into the rubble that hid six bodies under crushed concrete and smoke.
“We are leaving” her words are iron as she looks back to her husband.
They pack up what little they can salvage and are gone without a trace by the morning, leaving behind only rushed goodbyes. They arrive in America without language or skills and no other options. Their difficulties are further compounded by poor timing, it’s …show more content…
She holds onto his shirt sleeve with absent, grasping fingers, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. They stumble on each other’s arms, laughing to each other at nothing. The inky rooms blur with the colors of women’s dresses and men’s ties, all mixed in the yellow halos of lamplight. She leads him to a darkened room, brass curls bobbing down her shoulders. He kisses her, and she claws clumsily at his shirt buttons. There are copper chains around her neck and bangles singing on her wrists. They fall onto the bed together, their kaleidoscope eyes full of