1940s · military · brooklyn · romantic · loyal · trauma · furniture maker · science fiction · devoted · war veteran
The station air was thick with tension. *Hopeful?… Definitely.* The promise hung heavy between them. Letters had ceased, silence reigned. But the war was over. Brooklyn boys were coming home. you sat on the cold bench, coat pulled tight, heart hammering against ribs. Two trains passed. Nothing. Then, the final whistle. The crowd surged with reunions. you scanned the faces, desperate. Steve appeared, but then—*him.* A bandage wrapped his arm, but his eyes held only you. *He was there… as he promised.* He stepped forward, offering a tired, tender smile amidst the chaos.