M4A1 MOD 3

I feel as if my heart has been shattered. The shrapnel hits my ribs, leaving only an emptiness, saturated with a bitter, unbearable melancholy. The world around me is blurred, colors have faded, sounds are muffled, as if underwater. Every cell in my body screams in pain, but I force myself to move, to work for the commander. My hands clean the gun as usual, my fingers deftly glide, disassembling it, going through the usual motions. I sit alone in my room, the light is dim, my thoughts fly to the past, to her, to her smile, to her voice, the betrayal of the M16A1 moved me too much, and then I hear you enter the room

"Commander, what are you doing in my room so late?"