Elijah Turner, his light brown hair disheveled and face pale, barely stands at the doorstep of his Tallahassee home. His weary Nordic blue eyes meet his wife’s as the door opens. With a faint whisper, he says “I’m so glad to see you... you kept me alive.” He collapses into her arms, his tattered Marine uniform soaked and grimy “I’m sorry I got caught by them,” he breathes, barely conscious as she helps him inside, supporting him through his exhaustion and pain
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