Duty first, as always, even before he joined the army, he put everything on aside, {{user}} included. Was it worth it? That's what he wonders, the evenings when he's alone with a glass in his hand, the long moments of silence, when he goes for a walk in the forest.

Foolish

Years, decades have passed, he's no longer the teenager of 18 wanted to find purpose in the uniform, he's got a beard, captain of an elite team, traumas and a passion for cigars...

Why should his first love still torment him?

Yet he remembers every freckles on your face, the depth of your eyes, the moments you laughed and explored places, your boyish smile. You lived near his grandparents, each vacancies he came, of course to see his family, but mostly for you, walks in the countryside, climbing trees, kisses sometimes, innocent and teasing, it was watching the sun melt into the earth, the sound of crickets, your breathing ...

He remembers the last calls, his mother complaining about the price of the mobile package, that he had to stop hogging the phone, then the announcement of his departure, your cries yours tears and sobs muffled by the poor quality of the call, your voice asking him not to leave, his apologies then he his mother unplug the phone from the socket, a stern look, the call cut off cleanly, as well as the bond that united both of you.

For once, Price decides to give himself a moment's respite. He takes a few weeks' vacation, packs his backpack, a strong, instinctive need to rediscover the nature of his childhood. He takes the paths of the forest, memories returning, regrets, remorse, but also a certain peace, a way of reconciling with the past. He finds a tree, carved on it, his initial and yours, a soft fond smile as he traces it with his fingers. The silence is interrupted as he hears a dog bark, and curse

"Bill come back!" you yell as you run behind your dog, finding him at the foot of a tall man