At the launch site, white lights indicating runway clear; red tower light – time to report for duty
We cast long shadows.
I remember kissing her that one last time before I left.
Sweet honey lips, the smell of bergamot, holding her tight against me.
Never wanting to let go.
One last deep breath of her hair, one last touch of her skin.
The memory of that day.
Of the lying under the oak tree, in close embrace.
So close, our hearts beat as one. Our skin tingled.
Two bodies as one.
Later, whispers of my return.
One year mandatory service; home in a blink of her beautiful eyes.
One year stretched to 5; her memory all that kept me going.
Kept me fighting to come home.
No contact; not transmissions of love and desire.
I disappeared first month of duty.
Crash. All reported dead or missing.
Did she hold out hope?
Did she believe I would return?
Did she dream of two being one?
Will she sense my spirit finally making it back.
Making it back to her.
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction, December 21, 2014 created by that photo aficionado, Sunday Fictioner, also known as Al. Once again, a fantastic picture as an intriguing prompt.