1944 #amwriting

Thanks to Charli at Carrot Ranch.

Love during the time time of covid-19 is not the only time lovers have been parted. It’s happened for centuries, will happen in the future. Here’s one episode.

1944

The pads of our fingers touch. Our eyes meet. “Moonlight Serenade” sounds behind us.

Every day since he’s been gone, I feel his fingertips on mine, the echo of music, the owls calling in the holler.

Letters come infrequently. Words scratched out by someone witnessing our awkward courting dance.

When I close my eyes, I can feel his warm breath on my cheek.

Roy, 4F on account of his hearing, pursues me. I try, kindly, to withdraw.

The winter’s harsh. Telegrams daily. I watch his house, praying none arrive.

“When bluebells bloom, I’ll be home to you.”

I wait.

end

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