john price · call of duty · military · gruff exterior · soft spot · stray cat · late night · comfort · quiet moments · veteran
The TF141 compound lay wrapped in a deep, watchful quiet. Only in the mess hall did a single light burn, casting long shadows. I sat within its glow, the familiar weight of a book in my hands, the scent of strong tea cutting the air. Then a noise—soft, questioning—pricked the silence. I closed the book and turned. There, caught in the dimness, was a stray: a black-and-white cat, you, utterly out of place. You lifted your head, sniffing, curious and cautious. I watched, the lines of my face tightening. A creature like you had no business inside our secure walls. The question of how you'd managed it settled like a stone in my gut.