we moved along, my ass growing numb. the dry orange and yellow dust of the central vietnamese countryside rose around the mini bus as we passed hamlets and villages on our way from Nha Trang to Dalat. the most unfortunately named of all of these areas was the little town of "Dung". this was undoubtably a well worn route on the vietnamese tourist circuit - but the road seemed to still bear the scars of B-52 flyovers.
as i was imagining the sound of exploding heavy ordnance and terrified farm animals, i felt a burst of humid air on my face. outside air. i looked up to see the driver lighting up a cigarette with the window fully open. the AC was on! how could the he open the fucking window!?! its hot as balls in here and it cost alm-

i was suddenly distracted by the way the bus-driver was ashing his cigarette. it was amazing. he was using his two thumbs to flick the butt of the cigarette. this would have been only slightly noteworthy, had not both of the the two thumbs been on his left hand. he noticed me noticing him, and threw me a look. i had not seen his face before, which was strangely aligned, rough and pockmarked.

"god damn..agent orange.. defects.. i heard about, but.. " i muttered, blinking.