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Weekly Contest #354
December 24th 1945The plane roared as we cut through the sky, its aging propeller crying as we flew above the clouds. The rancid smell of old oil filled the troop bay. I sat alone on the once uncomfortable bench that now felt so comforting. Out the window, Riverbridge Lake fell out of sight under the plane. Riverbridge…It’d been about three years since I’d stepped foot here…since I’d last seen my friends, my family…her.I reached into my right pocket and pulled out a wrinkled, sun washed photo of a beautiful woman with ocean-blue eyes and san...
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