As a kid; he would pick the toy gun over all other toys. As a teen, he loved watching war movies; movies on covert operations. He grew up to be a fine soldier.
The fateful day he turned a martyr, he fought valiantly before he was gunned down by the enemy soldiers being outnumbered by them. God fulfilled his wish of laying down his life for the nation. His bullet ridden body in the blood soaked uniform lay in the snow, motionless.
Far away from the mountains, in the plains, in a nondescript house in a nondescript town, a brand new cycle stood in a corner. The cycle belonged to a little girl. It was a gift from her dearest daddy on his last visit to home. Her dad was going to teach her to ride it when his cell rang and he had to report immediately. She made him promise to be back soon and help her ride it. The girl waits for him with her innocent face pressed against the window railings staring at the gate. Her only wish; the sight of her father, the sound of his husky voice.
While one wish was fulfilled, another was shattered.