Sometimes I wonder if anything is ever ended. The words a man speaks today live on in his thoughts or the memories of others, and the shot fired, the blow struck, the thing done today is like a stone tossed into a pool and the ripples keep widening out until they touch lives far from ours.
Louis L'Amour—The Daybreakers (used with permission from the Louis & Katherine L’Amour Trust)
What if history didn't happen that way the first time?
He lay there, wide awake, with a headache. It wasn't one of THE headaches. He hadn't had one of those since he got back. Or had he? It was hard to remember sometimes. And was this "back"? He hadn't really come back, had he? And now it looked like he never could get back. He was here now, and here he would have to stay.
But it was a headache. The two pills he had taken didn't seem to have helped. What was it she had called them? Ibuprofen? Aspirin? Whatever she called them, they didn't work.
He also felt like throwing up. Or maybe crying. He wasn't really sure why on either one. He wanted to think about it, to try and figure it out, but when he thought about it, the desire to throw up intensified. So did the headache. And his eyes hurt from the crying. He hadn't cried like this since his parents died. Thinking about them, well, that just made the headache worse.