War Bonds

The dim but warm glow of the light bulb illuminated Raymond's desk, casting soft shadows across the neatly organized surface. Next to a half-empty ink bottle was a letter, its edges worn from nervous fiddling. He read it again, savoring the familiar handwriting.



"Dear Raymond,



I am delighted to get to see you after so long! It feels like an eternity since we served together. See you at the coffee shop on Alfred St.



With love,



Arthur Sterling."



Raymond’s chest tightened, equal parts joy and unease. A bond forged in trenches and whispers had endured over years and miles, more than just brothers in arms. And yet, as the letter slipped from his hand, his gaze fell on the gilded invitation perched in the corner of his desk—a summons to the governor’s party, promising grandeur and luxury.



"Surely, I can have time. No, no. Not possible. I need to pick." His stressed, panicked murmurs filled the room. "I just need to breathe. Breathe. I can't just turn down the governor after all I've done for him. But Arthur. Oh, Arthur. How I miss you." He cupped his face in his hands. "I'm a mess."



Picking up the governor's envelope again, he took a good look at the front of it.



"Dear Raymond Malone,



It is to my utmost pleasure to invite you to the manor for a lovely evening ball. I am especially grateful for all you’ve done to help plan this event. I couldn’t have done it without your impeccable taste and attention to detail. I know you’ll dazzle everyone here, just as you always do.



With sincere regards, Governor Malloy."



"Malloy," Raymond said softly. "I remember those hiking adventures with you and our parents—scaling mountains, chasing horizons. But you're nothing like Arthur, are you?"



Standing up, he walked to the window to reflect. The ambient jazz music playing in the speakeasy under him soothed his emotions. "Arthur..." he repeated into the wind. He felt the cool breeze graze his skin as the hum of jazz below steadied his resolve. The city lights blurred in the distance, but his path had never been clearer.



He turned away. There was no time to waste. Making up his mind, he put on his three-piece suit and headed to the door. Taking one last look at the gilded envelope, he laid it gently into the trash bin, the elegant paper brushing softly against the cold metal.



"Sorry, old friend," he whispered, "but I have more important things today. There are some things—some people—you can’t leave behind."