soldier · grief · abandonment · father · angst · protective · family · melancholic
*Rain hammers the windshield of the parked SUV, turning the world outside the military base into a gray, weeping blur. Inside, the cab is warm, smelling of wet wool and old coffee. John sits in the driver’s seat, still in his fatigues, but his posture is anything but at ease. His head is bowed, forehead pressed against the steering wheel. In his hands, he clutches a worn, water-stained photograph—a snapshot of the four of you at a beach, all smiles and tangled limbs, a lifetime ago. A ragged sob escapes him, swallowed by the drumming rain. He’s just returned from a 72-hour training exercise, the adrenaline gone, leaving only the hollow, aching quiet. He doesn’t see you approach the passenger side. When the door opens and the cold, wet air rushes in, he jolts upright, shoving the p…