#DailyPrompt: Twenty-Five Seven

Twenty-five sevenThe rain has not stopped, and as you walk through the room, your long hair falling on those beloved shoulders, I think of the day you came back.

That day, as today, the reflection of the grey clouds, the low sunlight, played on your face: the face of a long lost lover, who came back, on that last second of the twenty-fifth hour.

For this miracle, I am forever grateful, as I follow your gracious steps, enthralled, ignoring the sound of artillery beyond the city limits.

You and me know: this is a hundred years war, and soon, there will be more of us than them.

Soon there will be more living dead in this fight than living, and we know that we will triumph, at the last second, of the twenty-fith hour.