The leg had seemed a small thing. Not much to have to sacrifice to keep a whole country safe from harm. He’d been the cutest boy in school. All his life the girls had stared at his handsome face.
Discharge was being spit from a cannon and he had medals to prove what he had done and what he had lost. Red, white and blue shrouds had covered some of his buddies. He came out alive just like everyone who comes home from war comes out alive, but changed forever.
She ran her hand slowly along a flank.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“No it won’t.”
She knew how he felt about it and they didn’t have to speak. The flank lay open before his startled eyes. Creamsmooth acres as she took his hand and slipped it inside her skirt. He closed his eyes into the sensation of skinwarmed wet, the scent of summersun sweat and meadow, hum of the park, aroma of the picnic, the forthrightness of her gesture. All afternoon they lay together on the blanket, kissing. That night, under the rocket’s red glare, under the fireworks, he came bravely, fearless once again under the stars.
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Copyright July 2012 Valentine Bonnaire. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.