William Robert Irons: Dress Blues

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NOTE: A mini one but felt worthy of sharing!

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This is not how it was supposed to happen.

I should be standing next to him at the altar, not next to a fucking casket.

They folded up his flag, so careful and so slow.

When they hand it to me, I can't even cope anymore.

My heart drops to the floor, tears streaming down my face as I let out a choked sob.

But here he lay in a closed casket in his dress blues.

Face so fucked up that I wasn't even allowed to look at him one last time.

Mr. Irons said it was for my own good. That I should remember Will from before the... incident.

My grief didn't even allow me to think of him happily.

Would it ever allow me to?

"I just want to die too." I think as I press the folded flag to my face, letting it catch my tears.

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