She didn’t manage to stay safe, according to her letter. To no surprise, almost none made it that year. It was however a fortunate accident that war actions didn’t take me too far away from her. I rode as fast as I could exhausting my horse, dodging bullets, fighting hunger and praying to not catch the disease in hopes that I am not too late and my care could still save her. Everybody was under my suspicion for potential danger, so I did not stop not for dying people nor for a piece of bread on the road.
When I arrived at her house it was quite beyond normal. The cold morning wind was throwing around dried sheets tight to the rope in the empty yard. I rushed in, “Darling, are you here?!”
I run upstairs and froze. Through the gap of the door, I saw her small body lying on the floor in her bedroom. She was unmoving. I run to her as tears filled up my eyes so I could barely see. With shaking hands, I took her head.
“…Am I too late? Oh, darling! No, no, no, this can’t be…”
The seizure of pain went through my very soul. Shivering I laid down next to her, putting my check onto her breathless chest and closed my eyes. The hell could not come up with the suffering I felt at that moment.
