Happiness.
The fleeting emotion I long considered gone from my life, happiness, was it ever real?
Not for a soldier, not after all the blood and deaths. Not after the pain I inflicted and suffered myself.
Not for a war veteran, without a home to stay and places to be.
Not for a surgeon with tremors in his hand, useless in the operation room.
Not for someone who lets his friend down, who allows his best mate to think he doesn't trust him.
Not for a husband who clings to his marriage in hopes to hide his own inability to love wholeheartedly.
Not for a widower, who couldn't remember his wife's smile only a few months after her death.
Not for a blogger who hadn't written a word in years.
Strangely though, undeserving as I am, I can't describe the sensation in my chest in any other way. I sit here, at my old flat, surrounded by unpacked bags, my old laptop placed in between boxes of Chinese takeaway dinner. My fingers have forgotten the keys and it takes me twice as long to type.
Not that I know what to say anyway. Except that I feel happy for the first time in many years. Sitting here, watching the black lock of hair move up and down with my friend's every breath.
A/N : First of my 221b drabbles, written for prompt "Happiness". Please, don't be shy with critique and suggestions (and grammar nitpicking! I know you want to!)
Also, disclaimer: no, really, not mine. Not yet.