Coming Home

After the war, we were all gathered in our camps to wait the new order from the commander. I was out of breath and losing my mind. I only hoped to see my wife again one last time before another war broke out in the country.

She was sitting alone at the porch and just as I had hoped, she was expecting to see me after nine months at the war front. Now I didn’t admire the pets she used to bring home and when I returned, she had cleared the house of all the pets as though she had anticipated what could make me happy.

A week and more, we stayed indoors and on that weekend, she wanted for us to take a walk by the beach. That was how my life got transformed. I was hoping to be out there with my family to get some fresh air of peace and to feel the love and comfort of being home again.

The little corridor at the west end of the street stood cold and void and I could hear the gentle moans of a poppy at the back ground. It was none of my business, I thought to myself but there was this urge that kept talking to me deep inside. I felt like my country was not secured once again and as a man of war, I ran off to the direction where the dog moaned.

The cute spotted poppy looked me in the eyes like a lover would and as I reached my hand gently on its silky fur, there was the touch I never wanted to let go. I squeezed my muscles from the biceps as I smoothed its back with a tender touch, one after one, I touched it, touched its hairy beady eyes and the touch did not seem to stop after all that hate I used to exude on pets, I really could not stop touching to the surprise of my dear wife.

“Honey, this is indeed a touching story of you…” She jested.

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