Six Sentence Sunday (Through the Dark Clouds) 2
He pulled open the drawer of his bedside table wiggling it so it wouldn’t stick. Without even looking he pulled out an envelope and a single photo. He drew his finger along the scalloped edges of the photo and turned it a little toward the light. In it Robert stood straight and tall in his RCAF uniform with a half dozen other men in front of a British bomber. It had still been summer when the picture was taken and Robert had only been gone a handful of months with promises to be home before the next school term started. After all the war couldn’t last that long.