Brandon's Letters
Marianne lay upon the divan. Light streamed across her ever growing form. A book of poetry lay on the table next to her; untouched, though it was new and as of yet unread. Her eyes fluttered open to look out the window the light bright in her blue eyes.
She sighed and glanced back down at the letter that lay on her lap and a tear trickled down her cheek as she read.
"My dearest Angel," it said. "I know it has been longer than usual. I should have written before now but I was detained from writing as we moved to a new location. Forgive me, my love. I hope my silence did not alarm you. I should do anything to save you from fear.
"You do not know how your last letter gave me courage and brightened my evening. It is so cold here nights… without your presence by my side. My dearest I ache every moment until I'm with you again. "
"Oh Brandon," Marianne said, looking again out the window. "How can I bear this?"
Brandon sat in the hot tent of his camp the air of India was full of spices, which had once warmed his heart but now the only scent he longed for was a sweet vanilla water; the favorite of wife. He grasped the letter he was reading tight in his hands.
"My love," the letter read. "I long... I wait to see you. I look for you each day, waiting for you to enter the door. Brandon, please come back to me, soon."
Being careful not to damage the parchment, he folded it and placed it within the leather pouch which he kept her letters in. The pouch was almost full.
The words within each letter burned his heart with an ache. Each letter had the same pleading words for him to come home and though the longing and love of this gave him some comfort, there was still a fear that came from the knowledge of the pain his wife was in; a pain he was causing.
"Oh Marianne," he whispered, watching a cloud from the in the canvas. "How can I bear this?"