Day 4

He was leaving, traveling to a different country. A different world.
He would trade the corrupt world of McDonalds and ChuckeeCheeses for a life of guns and missiles, a place where sand would infiltrate and spread to every part of his body like poison ivy.
It was his choice, and I supported him; but now the day was here when he was leaving. The plane would come in ten minutes and each moment together would be erased and filed into memories.
His freckles would disappear. His ginger hair would be shaved away. His brilliant green eyes would be tinted with determination and fear. Fear, because he would know mortality.
The sound of bullets whirling through the air in a violet dance only to strike into the ground, into the wall, into a chest would overwhelm the natural noise of the world.
This was the life he craved.I could picture the Nerf guns he owned and the paintball games he had participated in. The image of him in combat was too familiar.
But he was naive then.
He was naive now. And his innocence would be ripped from him, replaced by an apathetic soul to preserve his humanity during the massacre. This part of him had to be put to sleep in order to survive.
And I would be left to mourn the change.
I would be left to love the memory and cradle the hope of his return in my mind.
And I would be the one to kiss the sleeping beauty and reawaken the prince's soul.