Peering inside the mailbox, hazel eyes sparkle with childish hope as Flaky peers inside only to have her hope dashed to pieces when she finds that it is empty save for a spider which had decided to take residence in there.

Shutting the small, metal door of her mailbox; Flaky stares at her feet for a long while, unmoving from that spot. Tears threaten to make an appearance, as they always do, but she bites them back.

Petunia, walking on the road with Handy, notices Flaky standing dumbly in front of her house. "What's wrong?" Handy asks, trying to see whatever it was that his girlfriend was looking at but due to his hard hat falling in front of his eyes, his view is too obscured to make proper sense of what her line of sight is viewing. Petunia's blue eyes grow soft with pity, staring sidelong at her red headed friend as they cross the road. Handy jerks his head, managing to shift his hard hat away so he can see and when his light brown eyes land on the familiar ghost of someone that they used to know, they fill with melancholy. "She still hasn't gotten a letter.." Petunia mutters, slowly peeling her eyes away from her pitiful friend and resting them on Handy. He nods knowingly, well aware of what it was that Petunia meant. They hold each other's gaze for a moment, just in that moment overwhelmingly grateful that they don't have to suffer what Flaky is currently going through before they avert their gazes. They both glance at Flaky once more, each silent in their own clouds of pity and worry for their old friend before they disappear around the street corner, holding each other- as best as they can with Handy's handicap- as they walk away from the sad sight.

Flaky however stands in her spot in front of her mailbox for what feels like hours, waiting to hear the sound of Lumpy's mail truck coming up the road but nothing of that sort ever happened. At least, not in the way that she wanted it to. She knew in the back of her mind already that there would be no mail for her today. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. Yet, she still waited like a puppy for it's owner- needless loyalty and ignorant obliviousness.

A few tears leak from her eyes and she hastily wipes them all away with the back of her sweater sleeve, both of her small hands clenching into weak little fists. Frustration and sorrow overwhelm her, racking her body with shudders of pent up rage and despair.

It had been two years, two bloody long years, since Flippy had been called back out to war.

It had been two years since she last saw him.

It had been one year since she last heard from him.

It had been six months since she had heard that he was missing in action.

It had been three days since she had started to give up hope.

Letting out a deep sigh, Flaky takes one last glance up and down the road for any sign of the illusive mail truck but since it is nowhere in sight she casts her eyes downward once more and shuffles back into her house.

Inside is very dark, highly contrasting to the way it had been before- before Flippy disappeared. Flaky rarely ever left the house, usually she spent her time sitting in the living room watching old re-runs of foreign soap operas. At least, that's what she did when she wasn't sitting outside by the mailbox waiting for a sign- any sign at all, that Flippy was alright.

The letter explaining his disappearance hasn't been too detailed. It had a simple "We regret to inform you that... Is missing in action." Blah, blah, blah "we do not know where their current whereabouts are but we assure you that we will do the best that we can to locate them."

All Flaky really knew about this war and Flippy's disappearance was that the conflict had begun when a successor had taken over the position of General Tiger. They had threatened the Government with a threat of an atomic bomb and now troops were being sent out to try to stop this new successor and his army. Flippy had disappeared whilst at a gun fight in a small no man's land, hundreds of miles away. The only reason why they listed him under M.I.A was because no body was ever found after the shoot out was over. Unless they had taken his body with them, which was highly unlikely, his body should have been there so the government assumes that he and his unit were taken hostage by enemy soldiers. Which meant that there was still a possibility that he was alive. That possibility however becomes a probability when remembering that Flippy is a Lieutenant General so it was highly possible that the enemy took him hostage because he was a higher ranking officer...or because they thought they could use Fliqpy to their advantage- which would be a horrible mistake to make.

Shutting the door with a soft click behind her, Flaky drags herself to the kitchen and grabs a small carton of milk from the fridge and she takes a big gulp. As she is tossing the now empty, carton of milk into the trash; Flaky catches her reflection in her kitchen window and grimaces.

She was not at all like how she used to look.

Her cheeks had hollowed in, making her look far frailer than she had before. She is also much thinner, bordering dangerously close to anorexia. Dark bags haunt beneath her eyes which have gone from a beautiful hazelnut brown to a washed out muddy colour. Her skin is pale, as though she hasn't been in the sun for ages which was partially true however.

She hated it. How she looked, how she acted- everything. Ever since he had left it was like a part of her heart was taken too and when she found out he had disappeared well- her heart might as well have stopped beating.

Flaky turns, prepared to return to her nest of blankets on the couch when something crashes through the kitchen window. Flaky lets out a terrified scream and immediately drops to the floor with both arms covering her head as a rain of glass falls to the ground around her, some of it scratching her hands as they land on her clothes and hair. She waits, at least- she tries to but with the paranoia gnawing at her, Flaky is only able to stay down for about ten seconds before she is up and desperately trying to get the glass off of her and do something to cover up the gaping hole in her window. She stares at her window with wide eyes, her knees buckling as her legs tremble beneath her. Who in the world would do this? Flaky stares outside but there is nothing there, just an empty street with a faulty streetlight which keeps on flickering. Turning around, Flaky is about to go to her garage to grab some wood to barricade the broken window with when something catches her eye.

A rock with a piece of paper tied to it with a small piece of string.

Ignoring the glass all around her feet, Flaky rushes to it- ripping the string off and unfolding the tattered paper with trembling fingers. Even though the bottoms's of her feet are cut and bleeding she pays no mind to it and scans the letter as quickly as possible. Her breath hitches in her throat when she reads the scrawled letters hastily written along the middle.

"He's alive,
Don't worry.
We won't be coming home."

Flaky stares at the sheet of paper for a long, long time with disbelieving eyes. He was alive? He was alive! He was alive and out there somewhere, he was alive! Her heart soars in her chest as tears fall freely from her eyes. "T-thank goodness- oh, thank goodness!" She sobs, hugging herself tightly so as to hold in all the feelings overwhelming her. After the overwhelming feeling of relief has past, Flaky is able to absorb the last line of the message- they won't be back? Who was the "We" in the sentence? Flippy and a fellow soldier? Flippy and Fliqpy? What if this was just a hurtful prank pulled by someone to make her believe that Flippy was okay?! The thoughts reel in her head, making her dizzy with confusion and doubt.

She had to make sure he was okay- he had to know that he was actually alive and she wasn't about to let some stupid piece of paper tell her something that might not be true.

She had spent months, waiting for an answer. Some sort of sign that there might be a possibility that he was alive. She had prayed to the heaven's above for the smallest of signs and well, this was it. This was her sign. This was her proof that there might be a chance that Flippy was alive somewhere. That he wasn't dead, killed off by some foreign soldiers. This was what she had been waiting so long for, just this small piece of paper with hasty writing.

Her hands tighten on the frail sheet of paper, already weakened by the damage of her previous tears. A spark of determination flashes through her eyes, something that was very seldom done with her, as she comes across the sudden realisation of what she has to do.

If the army wouldn't find Flippy, she would have to go and find him herself.