She jerks awake in the night, it has become her nightly ritual. The only warmth in her bed is from her own body, still she reaches over to where he would be laying. A deep sign comes from her deep inner soul, thirsty for his touch. Tonight seems different, she rises from the bed and goes to her second story window. Sleep has overtaken her town at this hour of the morning, not even a stray cat was moving. She stands there peering into the darkness, the moonlight embracing her in it's glow. She looks east, and her dreams cover the thousands of miles to where duty has taken him. Tonight she feels his presence with her, she feels as if his arms were around her once more. She runs a finger over her cheek, as he always did, her eyes close as the sensation trickles in her body. Her hand drops to the bare skin just below her neck and continues until her hands cups both breasts. She stands there for a few minutes and opens her eyes to look upon the darkness of the night.
He sits hunkered down in a fox hole, enemy shells bursting in the tree tops all around him. He pulls her picture out of his helmet and gazes upon it. He smiles at the memory of that day at the beach, she looked so young and beautiful in her new swimsuit. Now instead of sand beneath his feet, it was mud and blood. He looks at her smiling at him, her eyes filled with mischief, her hands on her hips, in her best Betty Grable pose. He reaches out and runs his finger over her cheek, just like he had done a thousand times during this war. He continues down with his fingers encircling each breast, his mind thousands of miles away, back in his bed, back besides her. His heart felt as if it would burst, it was so filled with loneliness, so filled with desire for her. Thoughts he had thought a thousand times run through his mind, but tonight something was different.
She tries, but sleep never returns. Her soul was in turmoil. Her body rebelling against all common sense. The hairs on her arms were standing on end. Yes, she thought, there is something different about this night.
The medic pulled her picture from his hand, his eyes still open, still staring at her beauty. The medic looks at it and then puts it in his pocket, he'd see that she would get it back. The medic looked at him lying there in the foxhole. One small wound right over the heart. One small piece of shrapnel was all it took it seemed to burst his heart. Another set of dog tags, another family to notify. Yes, there is nothing different about this night.