"Don't worry, I'll come back." You had said with a big smile. You promised it.
You promised you would come back.
"I'll come back and you'll come with me to the interior... Where rich people lives!"
And you could have make it...
But you didn't.
"While I am at the Military Police you can open the pastisserie you wanted...! We can visit the family, but only when I'm on holidays..." You said usually, always with a smile that told me you really didn't want to leave the town that had seen us to grew up, to born, to start loving each other...
But you didn't come back...
And I wouldn't see you again...
"Marco Bodt, 19th trainee squad leader. He fought for our homeland and he died with great honour, for the human kind."
He was the friend you had wrote me about in your letters, wasn't he? Jean... He hadn't could contain his tears while saying it... Your mother and I were the only ones at home when somebody called. The poor boy had to come here, our little home, to tell us you had died. That you had died for the human kind... That you had fought for our homeland... And still... Even you, Marco, would tell me that it doesn't make any sense... I can't not hate everything... Our homeland, human kind, this war...
We couldn't even bury you, Marco, no one can bury the ones who die in those times... They'er too many for a place so limited... Still... It hurts, Marco, it hurts that I don't have a grave to go to cry you.
And then, Marco, What should I do now, if I just can think about your freckles all on your face while you smile, telling me that everything will be fine... That we'll make it somehow... How will I make it if you're not here...? How? Tell me, Marco.
Did it hurt you when you died? It will hurt me the same if I die now?
Do you want me to go with you, Marco?
Do you want me to go with you whenever you are now, Marco?
Your mother closed herself in her room after listening Jean... I just offered him some tea... Somehow I just thought you would appear and laugh at me, then I would get mad at you, Marco...
Oh, Marco... You don't even know how I miss you to be mad at you, how I miss you when you run to my home, all scared and you told me you were sorry, nearly on your knees, telling me you hadn't thought it would make me so mad... I really miss you, Marco... You don't even know how I miss you.
You know, Marco, do you remember the last night we shared? It's because of it that I can't go with you.
I have another matters I need to take care of...
I only want him to be like you, Marco, with your freckles, with your eyes, with your smile, with your courage, with your security... The only I ask for is that if he leaves, that he will come back, not like you did.