Her First Day
His heart breaks all over again.
He shoulders his rifle and his pack, snatches up his keys, and chambers a round in the pistol. Just in case.
The knocking is weaker this time and he holds back tears because he knows what that means. Shaking it off, he tells himself there will be time to mourn later. Always more time, always later, but for now he has to focus.
An old calendar hangs on the wall next to the door. The actual month and year long past, it is now marked up with x’s and o’s of a dozen different colors. He checks the most recent series of blue x’s. 17 days. Longer than the last time by nearly a week. Maybe it would be over soon.
The knocking comes again and he swallows the lump in his throat. A coil of rope hangs on a hook under the calendar. Pistol at the ready, he grabs the rope, then throws the bolt and opens the door. (more…)