Elliot and Ruth
I sit under an oak tree with Elliot.
"I don't want you to leave," I tell him, and it's true. I've never loved someone so much. I love everything about him. I even love the things he hates. We're young as I am only 23, and he is a year older than I.
"Do you think I do? America's gotten involved in this war, and I have to serve. I have to fight."
"It's not your war, Elliot," I tell him.
"But, Ruth, it is. It is my war because I will be fighting it. Every move and counter move hold my life in its hands."
"And that's what I hate." I cannot believe he's leaving tomorrow, and who knows how long it'll take before I'll get to see him or be in his arms like this, looking up at the sky. "I'll write every day," I tell him.
"And I'll try to."
"Don't be like that: say you will."
"I will," he tells me, looking in my eyes.
Neither of us sleep that night. We just lay together. I tell him he should get his sleep, but he replies that it's a waste of time.
He has a large suit case that he pulls behind him, and it clunks in the train station. I don't know if I can make my mouth form the words good bye.
"I will see you again, Ruth," he says after he kisses me. All I can do is nod. "Don't say good bye. Say that you'll see me soon."
"I'll see you soon," I manage to tell him. He gives me one last quick hug before he has to go. I wave to him long after the train has gone out of sight.