Cold

I walk through the charred remains of a building. I don't know what I'm looking for but I couldn't help but be drawn here. I look around as the snow is continuing to fall. The wind howls through the bones of the building and I tuck my chin into my jacket. I turn to leave and I notice some debris has been moved in and area, I see a door leading to a basement. Opening the door I walk down the stairs and turn on my flashlight in the dimly lit area. The room is relatively undamaged from the fire. There's a desk with a book sitting open. As I approach the desk I see a picture in the in the book. I pick up the book and it is a handwritten journal. The photo falls out and I see two figures in it. There's an older man with black hair with grey mixed in. He's smiling and standing next to... me?

A/N this story will have some serious language so just a heads up on that. Also almost everyone in this story is real. I won't use any real names because some of us are still in the service.