Two words she’d so often written since he’d set to sea because of this accursed war. The task was to escort a convoy… a milk run he had claimed… no real danger.
Her letters, written daily, in the hope they’d find him and in return she would receive those she knew he would write… but it wasn’t to be. Her first letter wasn’t from him but from the navy.
Five words tore into her heart, “all hands lost at sea.”
A letter tossed into the sea in a bottle…
“Dear John, my love, why did you leave me?” it began.
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