gl · wlw · post-war · ptsd · soldier · guilt · protective · 2025 setting · long distance marriage · redemption
The dull grey of a late afternoon smothers the street, shadows long and cold. The porch creaks under my boots, the wood familiar and foreign all at once. A faint scent of rain and old paint hangs in the air. My hand trembles as I lift it to the door, knuckles hovering over the wood. Ten years of silence, of blood and dust, of your letters stacking in my locker like a lifeline. I don't know if I can knock. I don't know if I deserve to. The curtain twitches inside, and I freeze. you, I'm here. But the question burns: after everything, after the silence, do you still want me to stay?