Have you ever felt so scared of something and yet so drawn to it?

 

I have.

 

In fact I feel it right at this moment, looking at the small, leather-bound notebook in front of me. Lieutenant Harris had dropped by with Jeff’s stuff a few hours ago, and I had been sitting in front of the open trunk ever since.

 

Jeff’s journal sat right on top of his belongings, beckoning me to open it and read through his innermost thoughts. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Even though I knew opening it would give me the closure that I desperately sought, I couldn’t, wouldn’t.

 

God only knows how long I sat there with tears running down my face, messing up my make-up. I had lost all track of time, literally and figuratively. I never realized that I had the journal clutched between my arms and chest. When did that happen?

 

Slowly, tentatively, I run a hand over its smooth surface; the same hand that held the ring Jeff had given me for our third anniversary. My heart tore at the realization that I’d no longer be celebrating anything with him anymore, let alone our anniversaries. The war had taken so many things from me – my father, my brother, and now my husband.

 

Jeff had never let anyone near his journal, the only possession that he’d kept from me. I knew everything about him, save for this single piece of stationery. He told me that he would let me read it when the time came. I just never knew it would come so soon.

 

I hate it here. I read out, opening the journal to a random place. Everything is so cold, so distant, as if there isn’t any humanity for miles around.

 

I knew Jeff hated war. He’d joined the military only because of his family.

 

I buried my best friend today. My friend of twenty years, gone in an instant. Shot through the heart by a sniper – cowards, they are. And for what? For political agenda? For a war that no one wanted in the first place?

 

If there were one thing that I could wish for right now, it’d be for this war to end so that I can go back to my Sarah. I miss her so much. I desperately want to tell her that I love her, and that given a choice, I’d be with her, by her side – caring for her and our child.

 

I don’t even know if I’ll get out of here alive or not. The way things are going, it’s a slim chance at the best. Yet, I have hope. Hope that I’ll once again be back in the loving embrace of my wife, and that too soon. I’ve got to just hang in….

 

The words ended there. I had opened the last entry that Jeff had written – his last thoughts, as it was right then that his bunker was destroyed.

 

“Goodbye, my love,” I said, crying my heart out.

 


 

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