FIC: Someday, when I'm awfully low
Someday, when I'm awfully low
St. George/Hilary Thorpe, November 1944, largely talk. About 4500 words rated PG-13.
He freed his hand to tug gently at her wedding ring, which hung from a chain around her neck where her WAAC tags would usually have rested beside it. "You might wear this on your hand where it belongs, you know; I doubt you're likely to see combat in Fenchurch St. Paul any time soon."
ETA: my writing about depression struck a chord with one of my friends. Not a harmful one, thankfully, but I might as well warn for dealing with that, and for a character learning to cope with a physical disability. Always better to be safe.
St. George/Hilary Thorpe, November 1944, largely talk. About 4500 words rated PG-13.
He freed his hand to tug gently at her wedding ring, which hung from a chain around her neck where her WAAC tags would usually have rested beside it. "You might wear this on your hand where it belongs, you know; I doubt you're likely to see combat in Fenchurch St. Paul any time soon."
ETA: my writing about depression struck a chord with one of my friends. Not a harmful one, thankfully, but I might as well warn for dealing with that, and for a character learning to cope with a physical disability. Always better to be safe.