The war-torn veteran stood on the grassy slope. It had been over 50 years since he had stood on this very spot and gazed at her house. The deceiving sun lit the face of familiar bricks, beckoning him forth. Since then he had lost his idealism, his youth, and his left arm.
He was returning, at last, to her.
Would she stand at the threshold of the door in silence? Pity? Anger?
Was she even alive?
With every breath he wished so, as she was the one who brought him onto this earth. And he wanted to be the one to take her out of it.