We all look the same in the dark—

That’s what he said as we walked through the ruins,

Flashlights off, letting silence wrap around us

Like the fog rolling low between forgotten walls.

No name exchanged, just a mission:

Find the child, bring her home.

War had made us strangers to ourselves—

Uniforms didn’t matter much in moonlight.

His boots were like mine, muddied and torn,

But I couldn’t place the language of his breath,

The way he whispered prayers before entering rooms,

Or the softness with which he stepped over bones.

We found her curled beneath a shattered piano,

Eyes wide but dry, lips mouthing something lost.

He knelt first; arms open like a question.

She chose him without a word.

Later, when the sun cracked the skyline,

I saw the patch on his shoulder—

Not ours.

Enemy, once.

But she was safe.

And he was just a man with tired eyes.

We nodded, parted without fanfare.

In the dark, mercy had no sides.

Yes,

We all look the same in the dark—

And sometimes,

That is where the best parts of us survive.