She has her coffee on the porch, watching as the grey water crashes against the cliffside below. The salty air is crisp as she inhales calmly. In these moments of serenity she can almost forget that she had lived through a war, or fought her way through a cruel surreality. The nightmares became less frequent, the visions of Tom slowly disappearing from her periphery. But the trauma is still there, the ghosts are still there. 