He slowly shuffles into the office, his left leg a step behind him.

At the previous visit, wrinkled hands rolled up the leg of his pants to show me the long ravine scars.

“One remindah, even tho I no like remembah,” he said. “Vietnam wen fuck me up real good.”

We both sit down, and I start explaining his VA disability compensation benefits. He is silent, staring at his notification letter. I stop myself and ask him if he’s ok.

He looks up with dewy eyes.

“I always knew I was crazy, but now I kno it’s not my fault.”

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