Gonna Be A Little Bitter Who: Torque When: Late Night Where: His Apartment
His hands were steady, they never shook. Not on the grip of a gun, not on the multi-colored wires of an explosive, and definitely not on the firm and bare flesh of a woman’s body. They shook now, only slightly, and only for a second, but they shook all the same. The envelope rustled in the tiny shake of paper, the Marine Corps emblem gleamed darkly on the uppermost corner of one side, the mark heavy enough it was nearly physical.
Pulling the letter out of the envelope, it took longer to slide the paper from its sheath with his hesitation than it did to actually read the words on the paper.
A sledgehammer to the center of his chest could not have caught him with more surprise.
SGT Torque Shriver, In regards to your separation from the United States Marine Corps…
He dropped his head, and bent partly over so that his forearms rested on his thighs once all the words were seared into his brain. The Corps wanted him back. After everything, with very little explanation that wasn’t vague and in military legalese, they wanted him back.
Torque let out a breath, fingering the edges of the letter, a thousand thoughts chasing each other through his mind that made the word ‘conflicting’ seem to pale a description.