A Page From The General's Notebook

The page was torn. Marks that looked like old blood were splashed across the yellowing paper. The General's handwriting, always untidy, had become a mere scrawl, completely illegible in places. But across the page only the same words were repeated, dozens of times. Different sizes. Different pens. Different times. But again and again, Mrs Yamaguchi read the same words.

Forgive me.

Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.