It was just a guitar, and yet every time he picked it up he remembered the way her eyes had lit up when he played it for her and sang his horribly written and badly off key songs.
Now she was gone. Taken from him by the war. Memories stung like razors cutting into his skin.
They had tried to comfort him, tried to tell him she was in a better place.
They were wrong, that place would have been here in his arms as he taught her how to strum this instrument that she loved so much.
The absence of her warmth brought him to his knees.
A/N- Decided to turn the tables a little bit on this one. I know it's sad but hope you like it anyways.