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And you were in the heart of a battle field. Gunfire, mines, bombs. Your chances of survival were very low. I doubt whether very many others in that settlement of yours managed to wake up this morning…” “Tracey…” mused Sharon. Her best friend was probably also dead. And all they’d wanted was a holiday in the sun. Her eyes exploded in tears. “You bastards! You bastards! You fucking fucking bastards!” “I can see you’re unhappy,” mused the sergeant. “And I can’t promise you the security or the freedom you want. And we don’t have any medical supplies to do anything about your cuts and bruises. But they do look superficial, so I don’t think you’re likely to die from them. Much as I’d like to, I can’t free you. It would be my death sentence. Morale is low enough as it is, and any small thing I can do to assist my men is about all there is left for me to do until, or if, reinforcements ever arrive. I’ll leave you now. But I’m sorry to have to inform you that, from now on, you will be. She was overjoyed to hear it, and quietly began again to weep.When I asked why, she said that she was so happy, and that I had done so much for her. We joined hands over the table, and didn’t let go. This differed from what had become the standard hug at the conclusion of a tutoring session.I recall that this was the time when I realized that she felt something special for me, too. I was overwhelmed with a sense of joy, that this lovely, talented, beautiful creature valued me as well.We didn’t release each other’s hand until the entrees arrived. Then we locked eyes again, and didn’t look away... Small talk became less manageable, what with the lump in my throat and all. At the end of the meal, we paid, and in my elation, left a sizeable tip for the foodserver who had kept our drinks filled, and otherwise left us alone. Feeling like the king of the universe, I asked her what she planned to do with the rest of her evening.She hugged me, and whispered, "I want to make love with you all.
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