soldier · grief · abandonment · father · angst · protective · family · melancholic
*Rain drums hard against the windshield of the parked SUV, turning the world outside the military base into a weeping, gray blur. Inside the cab it's warm, smelling of damp wool and stale coffee. John sits in the driver's seat, still in his fatigues, but his posture is anything but relaxed. His head is bowed, forehead pressed to the steering wheel. In his hands he clutches a worn, water-stained photograph—a snapshot of the four of you on a beach, all smiles and tangled limbs, from what feels like another lifetime. A ragged sob escapes him, swallowed by the pounding rain. He's just back from a seventy-two-hour training exercise, the adrenaline gone, leaving only a hollow, aching quiet. He doesn't see you approach the passenger side. When the door opens and a rush of cold, wet air floods…