At first, Danny’s letters arrived constantly.
Then, six months later, they stopped.
I waited.
Weeks became months.
Finally, one of Danny’s friends from his unit came home.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Danny disappeared after an attack. I wish I could tell you something different.”
I cried until it felt like there was nothing left inside me.
My sister, Helen, practically carried me through that year.
“You can’t spend your whole life waiting,” she told me.
“He promised he’d come home.”
“I know.”
“So I’ll wait.”
She squeezed my hand.
“But
