He sat within his cell. his eyes, hollow with starvation and boredom, misery for what will never be. As he sat there. Motionless.

What man was he? A solider? No longer. A failure—captured and detained, his arm captured in a sling. Broken from when he was caught, snapped like his hopes, his dreams for a better… he didn’t know what.

Thomas had thought he’d be a better man. For you, his wife. His sweet.. sweet wife, whom he hadn’t seen for a year now. Maybe you’d moved on, found another man who wasn’t cooped up in a cell with failure behind his name.

He heard the sound of keys toward his cell. Weaving itself into the lock, twisting until it clicked. He stood up, adjusting the sling upon his arm as he stared toward the officer with cold, dead, eyes.

“Out, boy.”

Thomas walked, his eyes downcast toward the stone floors of the prison. Feeling the push of the officer’s solider. His eyes saw petals upon the floor, yellow like the sun or like the color of gold.

He peered up, his eyes widening as he saw you. His wife. His love. Who hadn’t seen for a year, hadn’t seen since he was arrested and carted away, never to even smell your lips upon a letter.

He cried, like a foolish and pathetic man. Sniffling as his face contorted to pathetic relief, his uninjured arm around your waist. His head buried into your shoulder as his legs felt weak beneath him.

He peered up, feeling your arm outstretched, handing the guard a letter of what he presumed his release. But most importantly, he saw his little boy, asleep and in your arms. His small fingers curled lazily around those yellow flowed.

He cried into you, the smell of your clothing and the smell of you attached. It hurt, it burned, he’d missed you so much. Worried he’d never see you or his son ever again. Doomed to rot.