Not a soldier

He felt the sun on his skin, his bare shoulders and arms, his toes. His legs were wrapped around hers, and the sun warmed them both, the rays shining on her golden hair. He liked the feeling, the setting, the warmth and the love he felt for her. He wanted the sun to forever shine on them, to be an eternal force that kept them safe together, kept them warm. She was still asleep, breathing quietly, her face toward his. They were snuggled close together, wrapped around each other the way a newborn is wrapped around a blanket. And they were happy, with or without the sun, they were happy together.
Then the sun disappeared and he suddenly remembered that he had been drafted for the war. He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. He didn’t have the courage, the power to break their bond, to break her heart, to leave her and abandon their dreams. He wanted to marry her but he would have to put it off for now. He wanted a baby with her, a house; he wanted his whole life with her. He couldn’t imagine life any other way, but now he had to.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back and thought of life without her. He thought of a war he now had to be a part of. He couldn’t betray her like this, no not like this. He would do it later, not now, not when everything was perfect and she was happy and so close to him, and he could smell her intoxicating perfume and could feel her skin against his. No, he just couldn’t ruin this perfection, this utopia that she and him had created together. Maybe they could run away together to Canada. He did not wish to be a soldier, or a warrior, or a prisoner. He would be a husband, a father, and he would be hers forever. War wouldn’t be his life. The only battles he would fight would be battles with her, battles that would start bitterly but end sweetly, battles that would bring them closer.
He smiled again and they both closed their eyes.

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