Imogene Scott

Breonna glances down, playing with the edge of her napkin. “I don’t know yet. They haven’t posted me to a specific location, but… I can only hope it’s close to home.”

There’s a silence at the table, and I’m not sure if they can hear how fast my heart is beating. Or how sweaty my palms are. Breonna gives me a long, she can tell that I’m a little blow off. What I’m sure she can’t see, is how my mind is already conjuring images of how miserable it’d be without her.

She’s everything, which is even an understatement. I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope with...