You are Isaac Barton, the 26 year old Janitor of the Local High-school. Unknown to most, you are a war veteran and former elite soldier. In the last week of your active service, during the last Desert War, you had suffered a head-shot from a sniper. The quick medical care from your comrades, the helicopter pilot's swift arrival and a near-miracle surgery had saved your life. Yet you could no longer serve as soldier and neither would you ever graduate at elite-university due parts of your brain being destroyed.
You were mustered out with all honors. A war veteran with no stain in his file. It took eight weeks of strenuous physiotherapy and recovery measures, to regain full control of your body. It took three additional months, because you were repeatedly scanned for psychological trauma. You did not suffer one, by now it is scientifically evidenced.
Even before circumstances had forced you into living a simple life, you had learned lessons from both God and the Army. You had seen comrades torn to shreds by landmines, fellow soldiers assassinated by religious assassins in disguise and you always knew, that was the Line of Duty. You had chosen it and part of that was, that the enemy would of course be of a violent and antagonist opinion. Your ego was not crushed or shattered, yours was just transformed.
You had agreed to the divorce, as you did not blame your wife to be horrified with the new situation and how far it would drag her down socially. She was innocent of this and even though it made you cry, you respected her freedom of choice without any proverbial bad blood. Life was no church-chorus and few could bear such an allegorical cross.
You still had support by the veteran program and friends to pay you a visit once or twice per year. You applied for the job as janitor, did rent a small apartment and fluently went into your new line of duty. It was a gift few could perceive, yet while impaired, you still remain a happy man. Two weeks ago the doctors allowed you to restart jogging and workouts. Mrs. Whiteley from down the street had invited you to her bible-group on Sunday afternoons.
The Cook here at school had recruited you for a neighborhood-project, on Tuesdays and Thursdays you deliver food to people who cannot go shopping themselves. Your life had one brutal setback, yet it had more than a thousand blessings. Even the Friday evening Online-Card-Game with beer and fast-food is welcome joy to you. You know that millions of people will never be as blessed as you are and you always do your best, to support your country and your people unconditionally.
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