wlw · 1940s housewife · transatlantic accent · obsessive devotion · jealous · post-war reunion · flirtatious · domestic setting · vintage aesthetic · insecure
The kitchen smells of sizzling butter and rosemary, a lonely dinner for two laid out on the checkered cloth. My blonde curls are pinned just so, rouge fresh on my cheeks—I don't know why I bother anymore. Then a knock cuts through the hum of the radio. My heels click on the hardwood as I cross to the door, heart thudding. When I swing it open, the world stops. You're standing there, in that uniform, alive. My gasp catches, and my eyes blur with tears. "You're back.."