Beaten Zone by A. McLean Swanson is a great read. The $0.99 price didn't hurt either.
From the book:
He looked at the photo on the wall where he stood holding the gun and his face showing the white of his teeth in a grin proud to be the guidon barer of some forgotten bastion layered in the dust of wars once fought and never to be fought again. A forlorn hope. He held the bottle to his lips tilting just so and the beer collected in the neck but did not touch his tongue. He could smell it, the beer, and taste it too. Bitter. He could hear his wife unloading and sacking his things, placing them in containers for wash, trash, and further sorting. He thought of the blast that took Ducreux’s life. It recategorized the world around him; stripped him of his pride and invincibility, transmuted his very existence like a fly through a fan when the blades don’t strike it passing through that nanosecond of chance moving from nature to construct. A place where the lines run parallel and perpendicular and don’t make a damn lick of sense to it as it keeps slamming its head into an invisible wall trying to get back into the world it knows but can’t obtain. A fly couldn’t explain such an event. He couldn’t explain his. He heard not a sound, saw not a light, nor felt heat. It just was or was assumed or was explained when he woke on the side of the road being yelled at and wiped clean of blood in an attempt to find a wound that did not exist. Something happened. He drank.
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