part six

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'four months my arse!' curtis thought to himself as he sat alone at the pub he used to frequent with harold. he hadn't come back. curtis was being shipped out tomorrow to lead a rescue mission on the coast of france, where harold was deployed eight months ago.

he never got a letter, harold had promised he would write to him frequently, but he never got one.

curtis finished off his pint of cider quickly and stood up uneasily. he staggered his way out of the half empty pub and down the street where himself and his lover shared their first kiss only eight months ago. how it felt like a lifetime ago to curtis.

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