When his eyes met her eyes across that smoke-filled room, and he saw the emotion reflected he felt love again for the first time in years. Unfortunately, that feeling was tainted by pain, fear, and regret. She was untrustworthy and nothing but trouble. He didn’t understand why his heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She wasn’t more than a seven to begin with and the years hadn’t exactly been kind to her not that he was one to talk. Maybe it was the way she used to lay on his chest, and the way she used to yearn to have his arms around her. Maybe he just missed having something to protect. All he knew was that there were quite a few people at this party who wouldn’t mind taking their pound of flesh if she started pulling on the red string of fate. He had made the choice to leave her behind. To let her live a normal life away from the violence and death of a soldier’s duty. He thought he had done the right thing, but he always wondered what might have been. Could she have been the anchor he needed to keep him grounded, and the buoy he had needed when he was drowning. He highly doubted it, but who knows maybe she had been honest. Maybe the girl he loved when he went to war was a cheating whore, but he would never know. Truth be told war is no place for love, and there will never be peace in a soldier’s heart. His mind was racing and his chest felt like it was on fire. He didn’t belong here anymore. He didn’t know where he belonged at this point, but it wasn’t here. Still he knew she was fantasizing about him coming and saving her from her normal life. In her dreams. He had made his choice for himself. Not for her. Not for love. As he turned around to walk back towards the door he realized there was no rhyme or reason. He had left her because he was uncomfortable around people. Ask him to shoot someone in the head? No problem. Ask him to ask a girl on a date? Not a chance. This is what it means to be a loser huh? This sucked.
Narrative Nonfiction
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I always enjoy any piece (in this case a narrative) that explores an entire story solely through rumination. Yes, I suppose you could argue that every narrative does this. This one, however is structured around the narrator’s memories, so it is almost as if the reader can tune out the present moment with him. Because you didn’t simply tell the events in first person, you add creative elements to your non-fiction piece, helping to keep us engaged in your story. Well done!
The best part is that now you’ve got me wondering what could’ve been between these two…but if the narrator doesn’t know, then I don’t either. That’s the beauty of it, I guess.