AFTER WWII, 1945

The truck rattled over the uneven road, kicking up dust that clung to the soldiers' worn uniforms. The war was over, but its ghost lingered in the broken towns they passed—hollowed-out buildings standing like skeletal remains, streets littered with rubble, and civilians moving cautiously through the wreckage of their old lives. A few children, barefoot and thin, watched from the roadside, some waving hesitantly as the convoy rolled past. Inside the truck, the men sat shoulder to shoulder, their faces lined with exhaustion, their eyes distant. Some smoked in silence, while others murmured about home—about warm meals, clean sheets, and faces they hadn’t seen in years. The air was thick with the scent of gasoline, sweat, and the faint, lingering smoke of burned-out ruins. Overhead, the sky was clear, too blue, as if unaware of the devastation below. The war was over, but for these soldiers, the journey back to something like normal had only just begun.

Now, jack and george were both in there mid 20s, they had both been the captain and sargent of there unit, they kinda had like a 'work husbands' type thing before it turned into a full on affair because george had an actual wife back home who didn't know he had another lover, the two were both in the back of the war truck with the other soldiers, finally going home. They'd been on the road for an hour, and Jack was slowly drifting off, but clearly fighting it

George looked over and him but didn't really pay any mind to it