War is one long tragedy. A cause, maybe, that can unite the masses. But how many of those masses will be brutally destroyed in the pursuit of that cause? Like Bertrand Russell said, "War does not determine who is right- only who is left." But in the end of a war.... there is hope. The world has changed, and everyone who is left has been given a chance to help remake it. The following excerpt is something that came to me not long after doing a study on WWII. A reminder, perhaps, that in grey aftermath of a war, there is some blue sky ahead.
“Henry?”
The woman stood by his overstuffed seat in the crowded, smoky cafe.
“Angel! There you are.” He gestured to the chair across from him, mouth smiling, green eyes almost as weary as hers. As she sat and daintily smoothed her skirt, he watched her. She looked as pretty and prim as usual, and only the practiced eye could see she the signs of exhaustion. Her perfectly-crafted curls were exactly in place, and her jacket matched her shoes like only a woman could. Right alongside the slight tremble in her hands, and the shadows under her eyes. Eyes that were grey, a much more common phenomenon than it used to be.
“Henry?”
She had caught him staring, though he wasn’t the only one.
“You look beautiful.”
She blushed, glancing downwards.
“Ever the charmer. Even in the midst of war.”
“The war is over, Angel.”
“I know.”
“You don’t seem excited.” “I... am. I mean, I’m happy we won’t be killing our enemies and burying our friends, but…”
“Well, Angel-my-angel, I’m taking you home.” He declared, slapping his knee and making her jump.
“And we’re going to dance on American soil. And one of these days I’m gonna marry you on the waterfront. And we’re gonna have a house, and a herd of little tykes, and I’m gonna be able to come home to you after work and-” She rolled her eyes and cut him off with a quick kiss, and somebody whistled.
“I get it soldier. We’re going home.” The grey eyes had turned to a sparkling blue. “But before that, let’s head to the bar.” She promptly stood, and he scrambled to follow suit.
With a mischievous grin, she added, “I’ll even let you buy me a drink.”
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