The Letter #MicroLetter
She didn’t dare to open the letter. Facing that reality meant facing he was gone forever and she couldn’t let go. She had loved him since high school. Damn the Army. Damn everyone. Damn everything. Tears dripped from her eyes as she held his picture tightly. So tight the blood wasn’t reaching her shaking finger tips.
She had known something was wrong when she hadn’t heard from him. She instinctively knew something horrible had happened when she saw his mother’s number on her phone. When she answered and heard the news she couldn’t breathe, her life, her love, was dead.
They had sent him into the building and the bomb had exploded. Fifteen lives lost.
The stamp on the letter showed fifteen days prior. He had been alive then. He could walk and talk and breathe and love. Now nothing. There wasn’t even a body to send home to bury. His mother had collapsed when she heard her baby boy wouldn’t return. She shared her grief.
They were supposed to get married in two months. She had been saving her secret. Now, she grieved not only for him, but for the fact that he didn’t know he was going to be a father. She should have told him.
She placed his letter in her jewelry box. She would open it someday. But for now, she didn’t dare to open the letter and read his last words to her. For now, she would pretend he was still coming home.