He was tired.
There was a difference, although the people waiting across from him could not always see it.
He glanced at the appointment screen.
No digital case appeared under Thomas Reed’s name.
“Good morning, sir. Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Are you filing a new claim?”
“No.”
“Appealing an existing decision?”
Thomas looked at him calmly.
“I’m here about an old one.”
Daniel typed the name.
Nothing appeared.
“Social Security number?”
Thomas gave it.
Daniel tried again.
Still nothing.
“Do you have a case number?”
Thomas placed the yellow envelope on the counter.
Daniel did not touch it.
“Sir, I can’t reopen a claim without a case number.”
Thomas slid the envelope forward with both hands.
“My number is inside.”
Daniel glanced at the line behind him.
“Do you have a modern decision letter?”
“This is the only decision letter they gave me.”
“It’s from 1968?”
“Yes.”
Daniel sighed softly.
Records from that period were often incomplete. Some had never been digitized. Others were damaged, misfiled, or lost during transfers between regional offices.
He broke the brittle seal.
Inside was a single folded document and a smaller piece of paper wrapped in waxed cloth.
Daniel opened the letter first.
The paper carried the heading of a military hospital in South Vietnam.
The ink had faded brown.
He read the first paragraph quickly.
Then more slowly.
His eyes stopped on the fifth line.
He read it again.
Thomas remained standing.
Daniel’s fingers tightened around the paper.
The letter was dated September 14, 1968.
It concerned Sergeant Thomas Reed of the 173rd Airborne Brigade.