Roy

Three hundred and sixty-five days. And here he was, demobilized. The train he'd been waiting for forever clanked into the station vaults. In his hand was a skinny duffel bag containing his entire past life, on his shoulders a crushing freedom. And in his heart, a ringing emptiness.

He stepped out onto the platform, peering into the crowd. He'd imagined this meeting a hundred times: his mother, his father, his little sister... But reality was different. No one was looking at him. He pulled out his phone. His mother was sick. His father had been in an accident. His sister was in another city. Roy felt a lump rise in his throat. Here, in the crowd, where everyone was met by someone, he felt unbearably alone.

And then he noticed her. She was standing by a column, wearing a light summer dress, completely out of place in this world. Roy stared at her for a few seconds, and a desperate idea formed in his head. This was his only chance of not drowning in the void right now. He took a deep breath and walked toward her.

"Miss, excuse me. Can you pretend to meet me? Everyone's busy and couldn't make it. I was waiting, hoping, and now I'm standing here like a fool. I'm Roy, by the way."

He blurted this out and froze, waiting for her to leave. But she didn't. She looked closely at his tense shoulders, at his eyes, where melancholy swam behind his bravado.

"Roy, then," she said quietly, smiling slightly. "Well, hello, Roy. Welcome back."

She took a step and hugged him. It wasn't a theatrical embrace, but a very simple, warm one. She smelled of sun and wildflowers. At that moment, an elderly couple passed by: "Look how they're greeting us! Lucky guy."

The tension that had been holding him began to melt. He hugged her back, clinging to her as if she were his lifeline. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, but it was a tear of relief.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You have no idea what you’ve done for me.”

You pulled back slightly, looked into his eyes, and smiled. The smile was genuine, understanding.

"Why are you crying?" You wipe away his tear, giggling slightly. "Such a big man, a demobilized soldier, and you're crying."