Short Story: Soldier On (Preview)

I have a passion for short stories, both the reading and writing of them. They have enormous potential for a powerful impact, as well as for unique and startling premises. There are many short stories I am excited to share on this site. This one, Soldier On, I started in September. I plan on sharing this story in its entirety not too long down the road. For now, here's a preview.

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She kissed him goodbye, drawing in his scent with her whole being. As she pulled back, she gazed up into his face. Or tried to: her eyes were so filled with tears all she saw was a tall blur. He clasped her shoulders tightly.

“Ellie,” he wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’ll come back to you. You gotta keep hopeful, for the sake of Jacob.” He knelt down to the sleeping baby in the stroller. Traced his fingers over the little nose.

“I will,” she whispered. “I’ll try. It’s just -”

“I know.” he said, walking backwards slowly. “But you gotta keep up hope for me.”

“God will be your strength!” She cried. He put his fingers to his lips and shook his head.

“Don’t give ‘em any cause to watch you. Blend in whenever you can. Please, for my sake.” She still couldn’t see him right, and wiped the tears angrily. Would she not even be able to see his face before he left? And he was gone.

“Four dollars?” She held the plump tomato in her hand. “That’s ridiculous.” Jacob grunted in the cart, kicking his feet.” Her grip tightened on the tomato.

“Excuse me,” she locked eye contact with a passing employee. He had one earring from which a large feather swayed.

“What?”

“Why do these tomatoes cost so much?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Inflation.”

“What’s causing the inflation?”

“I don’t know. I’m just an employee.” She could feel her fingernails cutting into the juicy flesh.

“I usually order online. I’m here for answered questions. From real people.”

He averted his gaze.

“Uh, the economy changes, alright. I don’t know.”

“Oh yeah, the economy!” She threw every ounce of sarcasm she possessed in to the words.

She restrained herself from hurling the tomato onto the pile. Instead, she lightly set it down, and turned back to the employee. And he was gone.

Funny how the government resorted to old methods under pressure. She’d never had a printed photo of Garret like this one. Of course, they had a website to track the happenings, updated with heartless little lists of the dead. And she was one of the few who had the password. The wide smile and firm jaw she knew appeared flat and fake on the paper. She tore her gaze away and turned her back, trying to focus on the tray of veggies ready to slide into the oven. She slammed the oven shut and the air flicked the photo from where it was stuck. She didn’t notice until the paper was already on the burner. And he was gone.