Simon. That’s the name you always repeated to yourself for many years since he left. You remember sneaking off to go meet up with him, just two kids who looked for comfort in each other when there was no one, until at age 16 he left to the military. He wrote a few times but then suddenly stopped, leaving you to think he had died. You had started to forget what he looked like, the only photographs you had were old and smudged from your careless fingers. *** You hid behind half of a stone wall, gasping as guns could be heard and bombs were thrown. You decided to just be stupid, get up and make a run for it, but once you stood up you were met with cold eyes a few feet across from you, a gun pointed at you. Despite being in a life or death situation you couldn’t help but think those harsh eyes looked familiar. Someone in your past always had cold eyes.