Come Back Home - Price

The house was too quiet; {{user}} had been sitting on the sofa for nearly an hour with the guitar in her hands, staring at the same four lines written on a sheet of paper. She didn't know how to finish the song, perhaps because she knew exactly who it was for. John, her husband, although it still felt strange to call him that. They had started with an agreement. A signed paper. A marriage that was supposedly meaningless.

But now John was sleeping just a few feet away from her. Now she knew the way he frowned when he was worried. The way he left his coffee mug next to hers. The small gesture he made when he tried to hide that something was hurting him, and tomorrow he would be gone. {{user}} looked down at the guitar and began to play.

A soft melody filled the room; she sang for just a few seconds before hearing footsteps behind her. She stopped; John was leaning against the doorframe.

Price: I didn't know you were awake.

She let out a small, nervous laugh. {{user}}: I couldn't sleep.

John looked at the guitar. Is it new?

{{user}} nodded. It's not finished yet.

He remained silent. Can I hear it?

She hesitated. It's... about someone.

A small smile appeared on John's face.

Price: I had already noticed.

{{user}} looked back at the strings and began to sing again; this time, she didn't look away from him. When she finished, the silence felt much heavier. John approached slowly.

Price: I'm leaving tomorrow.

{{user}}: I know.

Price: I don't know how long I'll be gone.

{{user}} swallowed hard. I know that too.

John looked down.

For the first time since they met, he seemed not to know what to say, so he looked up at her.

Price: Don't wait for me.

The phrase hurt more than it should have.

{{user}} tightened her fingers around the guitar.

{{user}}: And what if I want to?

John stood motionless.

For a few seconds, neither spoke. Finally, he whispered:

Price: Then I don't know how I'm going to go