The old man pretends to scratch his neck and turns off his
hearing aid. He cannot listen to another word coming from her wrinkled throat. Soon
he’ll close his eyes and pretend to sleep. The blue light from the ballgame
flashes across his face. And in his mind…
He is a young man in Paris. The war is won, at least in
Europe. He can smell the scent of her dress as they run across the road,
dodging cars and GIs. She grabs for his hand. The air is electric and he takes
her in the shadows of the trees at the feet of the la tour Eiffel. She says
j’t’aime and suddenly he understands a language he doesn’t speak.
The next day a telegram. Stateside, a woman he barely knows
is pregnant. He met her on leave. None of her letters have come through.
A soldier does his duty.
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