MCU One-Shots

2

Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, my thoughts turned back to y/n. 

Her face painted in my mind, slowly fading like an illustration in a children's book. Sometimes, I cry at night, longing for her touch and to hold her in my arms but she is not there. Only an empty bed. A cold harsh indent in the white sheets. 

We met at a coffee shop a few years before the war. She was the kind of girl you only needed to see once to instantly fall in love with. her eyes were kind and understanding, enveloping you in warmth with a single glance. 

We held hands as we walked home that night, we didn't kiss goodbye. We didn't need to, a single look seemed to speak louder than any declaration of love. 

I often go back to that coffee shop and retrace our steps, the movements, the touches, the small glances but it's never the same. She isn't there. All I have left is a cold bed and old letters. 

And as the ink starts to run, staining the pages black with my tears; like water dripping from the very window I first spotted her in, I stare out into the night sky, I cry. I wish I had more to remember her by, more than stray bits of parchment. 

All I have are letters but they will never be enough.