It was a new suit, Gucci to be specific, and incongruent. I stood there with my comrades in arms, staring at this skeleton proudly wearing his suit.
The soldiers in front of it stood staring us, oblivious to the oddity behind them. How could we tell them? How could we convey to these grubby men who didn’t speak our language that there was a dead man – no, a set of bones – behind them wearing a pristine $2000 suit.
I don’t know how or why he was there. After our moment’s reverie, we raised our guns and went back to war.