“I’m sorry it took so long to find you, Harold. It wasn’t until a mortar exploded near me, six months ago, that I started remembering. Just a bad concussion... you always say I have a hard head,” John choked, wiping the wet tracks on Harold’s face with his clean handkerchief.
The baby took that moment to contentedly burp, breaking the air of solemnity surrounding them. Harold and John began to laugh, Leila joining them. John whistled sharply at his canine companion, who came bounding towards the three. He almost looked like he was laughing, too, and enthusiastically licked the laughing baby’s face.