Sometimes days just don't register. They just pass by without me even realizing it.

Every day was the same routine. There's nothing to remember, anyway. Everyone else have different adventures, different sights.

But not me.

They return with stories to share, with souvenirs of battles they would bring home. I don't understand. I fought the same amount; perhaps even more, but I never had the same tales to tell.

Patroling every-day was a routine, but to others, it was an adventure. Each sunrise brought them the possibility of a new adventure.

Their stories grew every-day, but mine hasn't even started.