The Letter

[my first serious business picture! including an excerpt that I'll eventually include with my fic, The Eve of War]
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Clay could see Lieutenant Dolton and his co-pilot, Roland, watching him from a distance. Ever since Anthony's death it'd basically become his home, and they knew that. Whenever anyone saw him in it, they stayed away to give him space. And today they really knew to stay away.

Everyday the Gears in his unit received mail. Mail call was always a morale booster, whether it was from family or other Gears they'd met from different squads and regiments. It was just nice to hear from people once in a while. But not from the wrong people.

He recalled mail call earlier that day. He had anxiously waited for his name to be called, only to hear that his letter was from a Sergeant Fenix. His heart had almost stopped working but he stood up and walked over to receive it. He tore it open and was greeted by Benjamin's messy handwriting.

Everyone was too busy with their own letters to notice that he hadn't taken his helmet off to read his. It was smart to remove it first, because the bulkiness of the damn thing would distract you from the joy of reading a letter. But he didn't. He didn't want them to see his face.

And now Clay sat in the King Raven that he called home, rereading the letter. It was dark now and he could barely make out the words. It was no problem, though, because he'd practically memorized every word.

I hope you're doing well out there, Clay. Not sure where you are but I trust that the COG will get this letter to you safely. I know that you'll be excited for me, but it'd be great to hear from you before I ship out.

I just wish Anthony was still here bro. I really miss him. I take comfort knowing he died a hero, but still... I miss him, as I'm sure you do too. Well, you know I'm not that good at letters, so I'll keep this short. Hope you're doing well, big brother, and know that I'll be doing my very best to serve our country and make you and our family proud.

Your little brother [aka the Squirt], Ben.

And the end was from another person:
His last wish was that I made sure this gets to you. I'm sorry.

Signed, Marcus Fenix

They hurt. The inanimate words hurt him. Not even the grubs could hurt him as much as this did.

Clay hadn't noticed that the paper was beginning to get wet from the first rain of Storm. He quickly folded it and carefully inserted it into his chest plate. At that sight, the two pilots began to walk towards their bird as Clay dismounted and left to his barracks, patting his chest and wondering if it was actually his tears that were drenching the letter.