“So was I.” The clerk was lonely and wanted to talk and Holton was still tired and nervous and wanted to think. “It sure is nice being out,” said the clerk.
“Yes, it’s good to be out.”
“I was with the 82nd; you remember the 82nd, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“We had a good group of guys.”
“I know you did.”
“Nothing like being a civilian, is there?”
“No,” said Robert Holton, “there’s nothing like being out. Good night.”
“Good night.” The clerk who had been with the army was sad to see him go.
He turned the light on in his room. It was all just the same, the troubling painting and the crowded dresser. Sometimes he would come into his room and have a feeling that everything would be changed when he turned on the light, that something exciting would have happened to change his room. It was always the same, though; always the way he left it.