Captured

Reagan…god. Why is this so hard? He lifts his head, his eyes roaming, searching, wavering. He swallows and sighs, tries again. “I’ve never loved anyone before, Reagan. I don’t know how.” “You’re doing just fine so far,” I tell him.

I had the love of my life. I married him. He died a prisoner of war from wounds received during combat with the enemy. I buried him.

I vowed to love and remain faithful to Tom in sickness and in health, till death do us part. Well, death parted us. Now what?

You’re beautiful, and you are wanted. I know I’m not supposed to feel that way about you, but fuck it. I do.

I love you. I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll never give up, and I’ll love you more every day.

Tonight she’s sleepy. Dragging. She barely makes it up the stars, fumbling at her shirt and bra on the way. I help. Hehe, help.