A single light blazes in the distance guiding my way, the only thing visible through the haze. The past haunts each step: explosions, screams, decisions, truths too harsh to remember or forget.

Twenty feet away now, feet crunching through snow, hair frosted by harsh winds. A door swings open to reveal a shadowed face.

They will call us heroes, saviors of our world.

But what about our life together? Can you accept the person I’ve become? Can the person I’ve become accept you? I have to know, once for all.

“Honey, I’m home.”

This is my weekly post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle, our ever-present light in the dark. For more stories, click the link.

11 thoughts on “Home

  1. So sad that heroes end up feeling that way in the first place. War (I’m assuming that is why he was away) is so destructive to humans.

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