Your calloused but yet soft hands, your piercing eyes, the way the words of yours rolled off your tongue in an utter-bliss. Your touch was ethereal with the way you helped the men of Easy Company.

You had been our combat-medic throughout this horrid war. My combat-medic.

But as we sit cuddled up in our foxhole, with you close by my side, I could see the linger of wanting in your eyes. The way your nose crinkled and your cheeks puffed out in annoyance. Something was on your mind.