He stood; a man—yet a boy—ready as any eager youth to join the fray of battle, defending his country and ideals. To his right and left others flanked him, chanting, “To the end, we’ll never bend.”

Like a thousand volts of electricity, energy ran through his body, intensifying with each repetition. It mattered little that his station held him squarely in the center of the sun’s scorching rays. Nor did it bother him to know that once training was complete, he would brave the untamed land surrounding him.

From the corner of his eye he noted his commander approaching. Quick check: body straight, shoulders back, chin parallel to the ground, eyes forward. It was an honor to serve in this Commander’s army—the most notorious known to history. Soon, he was there, toe-to-toe, eye to eye. The intensity of the Commander’s gaze electrified the soldier to greater degrees than he thought possible. “Soldier, this will not be easy.”

“Sir. No, sir.”

“This could kill you.”

“Hey, Emily,” my coworker, Holly, whispers. “Dream Man is here!”

I cast a glance across the airport boutique and see him looking at some fancy journals. I’ve worked as a sales associate at this store for over two years, and I’ve often seen “Dream Man” at the front counter of the airline where he works. He is tall, lean, and muscular; in his early thirties I think, with wavy, brown hair and a friendly smile.

“Can I help you find anything?” I ask, as I approach him.

“I’m looking for a journal as a present for a lady.”

I wonder, Who is that lady? Discreetly I look at his left hand and see no ring. Well, at least he’s not married!

“Would she like a leather-bound journal or a hardcover one?”

“I think this one will do.” He points to a handsome, hardcover journal with a floral design on its front cover.

“Good choice! I’m sure she’ll like it.” I look into his gorgeous blue eyes.