2 minutes. Those 2 precious minutes every year, symbolising the fallen soldiers from War. Not just the Worlds Wars, but any wars. To remember the soldiers brutally murdered in battle, dying for their country. To most, it's the sentiment that counts; they didn't know someone, they were lucky not to, but they do it out of respect. To those it's 2 minutes of living in the past, 2 minutes to let yourself reminisce, to be taken over by grief and guilt. To remember them: their smile, their laugh, their favourite food, just them.
2 minutes. The longest to minutes of a survivors life. Being transported back in time, to a place full of adrenaline and danger, to a place nothing like home. Remembering the fallen; when you first saw them, when you last touched them, the memories with them, their last moments. It's like being taken over by a flood of unwanted memories, locked away in the back of your mind.
2 minutes. The 2 minutes Molly had been dreading. 2 minutes to remember him; to remember Smurf. To remember that night behind the takeaway, to remember seeing him again, to remember becoming best mates, to remember their trip back to England, to remember him being shot, to remember him dying. To reminisce on his laugh, the way it lit up his face, infectious like a disease.
2 minutes. 2 minutes of 'what ifs'. What if he had called her back? What if she had listened to him, and never befriended Bashira? What if she had fallen for him? What if he hadn't been shot? What if he hadn't seen the Captain and her kiss? What if they had spotted the bleed? What if?
2 minutes. Ticking away like a fat gold watch, precious time to remember her best friend, to really think about him. It's not like he didn't cross her mind everyday, because he did. He was everywhere- her house, the football stadium, her dreams. He haunted her. But she didn't mind too much. At least, even for the briefest moments she could see him again.
2 minutes. She missed him. She never went to Vegas- she couldn't bare to leave without him, to go to a place where they should have gone together. She never went back to the football stadium. She couldn't even watch a West Ham football game anymore. And everytime she heard a stupid Welsh Wanker talk, a pang of guilt rippled through her. Because she missed him. She missed her best mate.
2 minutes. To be briefly reunited with her best mate.