"Actually...I just miss you...." That's what the note said. Just those five words on a piece of paper. It looked like he had written a lot more, but all of it had gotten erased. Just those five words survived, along with his signature, John Noble.
"Actually...I just miss you...." That's what the note said. Just those five words on a piece of paper. It looked like he had written a lot more, but all of it had gotten erased. Just those five words survived, along with his signature, John Noble.
Rose fingered the worn and creased piece of paper in the pocket of her coat. She’d long ago memorized the words, memorized the exact curve and weight of every penstroke that it contained.
Everyone had told her to give up hope, to move on with her life. The war had ended four years ago and John obviously wasn’t coming home, they said. But Rose had this note, delivered a month after the armistice, and she wasn’t giving up on him, not while her heart still told her he was alive and making his way back to her.
Rose bit her lip and turned away from the biting wind as she stepped out of the shelter of the train station. She had to stop at the post office before going back to her flat still, and she had to hurry if she wanted to get there before they closed.
It was her daily routine. Go to work, stop by the train station to see if anyone had noticed a stranger with John’s description arriving that day, stop by the post office to check for letters and telegrams, and then back home to sleep before doing it all again.
(The workers at the station and post office gave her pitying looks that they thought she couldn’t see but Rose kept her chin up and tried not to let them affect her.)
(He was coming home. He was. He’d promised.)
There was nothing waiting for her at the post office and Rose hurried to her flat, wanting out of the bitter cold as soon as possible. She trekked up the stairs to the third floor, already dreaming of wrapping up in blankets with a hot water bottle.
Rose frowned when she started down the hallway and saw a man sitting slumped against the wall in the shadows a few doors down from her flat. They didn’t usually get the drunks this far up in the building but maybe the bloke lived here and just couldn’t find his keys or something.
She tried to hurry by him, stepping over his long legs in the narrow corridor but as she did, his hand reached out, quick as lightning, to grab one of her ankles.
She opened her mouth to scream, but he spoke before she could make a sound.
Just a single word but it was enough to make her head whip around to try and see his face.
He lifted his head and she choked back a sob. It was him. He was thin and dirty and bearded but it was him.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so she settled on smiling down at him, tears shimmering in her eyes, and inviting him into her flat.
Rose helped him to his feet and then didn’t let go of his hand until fifteen minutes after they’d made it inside.