The boy doesn’t move. A single tear slips down his cheek as he tries to stand tall, just like his father taught him. The crowd around him falls silent. Even the wind seems to pause. The bugle begins to play “Taps,” that haunting melody that carries both pain and pride. Every note feels like a goodbye that never ends.

@realdonaldtrump once said, “The heroes who rest here remind us that freedom is never free.