Jack took his wife’s shaking hand in his. With his other hand, he held his little daughter, whose large eyes reflected nothing but terror. “I’ll come back,” he stated in a low voice full of reluctance. The train’s noise intensified, and he was yanked off. The letters flew away and came back only until someday, they stopped. Many years passed, and when the war was finally over, Jack came back, but he had transformed into a ghost of himself. His daughter now an adult could barely recognize him, but a victorious embrace from his family meant more than any medal.
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