Broken hearts still beat and so did Priscilla’s. It thud painfully and bitterly. Each beat an agonizing precursor to the next.
They had grown up together, the vast green fields surrounding the windmill their personal playground.
Then years later he’d taken her up to the windmill loft, blindfolded. As he slid off the covering, she gasped in delight at the lush green fields going on for miles. Then he’d got down on one knee, not the first place one might choose to propose, but for her it was perfect.
Then the war took him away for months and when he returned, his eyes revealed a stranger. He curtly said that he’d found someone else, a nurse, who had tended his wounds and offered succor.
She stopped going anywhere near the windmill after that day, when he had so coldly and unapologetically asked for his ring back.
Had the war changed him? She desperately tried to find a reason for such treachery. How could a childhood soulmate and soldier trained in honour, exude such betrayal?
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers