The Veteran

Momme noticed him during his spare breaks. He was one of those soldiers who had returned from the battlefield with grey, empty eyes. Momme had seen these eyes more often than he liked, but something about this soldier in particular piqued his interest. He always kept himself distanced from the others, but it wasn't the comfortable solitude that Snorre had perfected. Momme was empathic enough to recognise self-enhancing loneliness.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, but before he received an answer, he plopped down next to the soldier with his lunch. He did not say another word, sharing silence as they both ate. When he left, he said a single goodbye, but otherwise there were no words exchanged. Momme continued spending his lunch breaks is shared silence with the veteran.

"Goodbye."

"Bye", the veteran grumbled one day. Momme had not kept track how many days it had been, but he was glad he had achieved a word.

The next day, the soldier greeted him with a nod and a single, croaked syllable. That already doubled the total word count of the veteran.

"Why?"

It had been at least two weeks since Mome started his endeavour. He looked up to see the grey eyes staring at him. They looked a little less dull by now, the face was also less gaunt.

"Huh?", Momme replied, unsure what the other was asking.

"Why're you sitting with me? The others are more fun company."

He nodded his head towards the building serving as dining hall.

"You looked lonely", Momme answered in a matter-of-fact tone. Pity was not needed here.

The veteran grunted.

"I am", he added after a very long pause. His eyes fixed on something only he saw.

"Lost.. I lost..."

He stopped speaking and Momme could see him struggling. His eyes were wet and he clenched his teeth to maintain a neutral expression, even though several muscles in his face twitched to express something he tried to keep hidden.

Momme got up on his feet.

"Let's take a walk."

Surprised, the veteran forgot to decline.

They left the building complex and reached a small stream, almost invisible among the plants growing out of its bed.

"I like this place a lot", Momme said.

"It reminds me of home."

"Mhm."

After a while, the soldier broke the silence between them.

"What is your home like?"

"It's a valley between high mountains and the sea", Momme said, getting more and more excited as he spoke.

"It has a river running through it, and most of it is part of a huge forest. But there are also a lot of meadows with the prettiest flowers. There's a wooden bridge near my house, where Snorre and I often sit and watch the water. Sometimes we talk, sometimes he catches fish. But it's also just nice to just watch the water and not speak at all."

"That sounds beautiful", the soldier answered and Momme could have sworn he saw the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"Do you have a home?", he asked.

There was a long silence between them.

"I suppose...", the veteran whispered.

Momme nodded.

"Homes can be hard to find", he agreed.

"Snorre told me that he didn't have one for years. He said he always thought he didn't need one."

"What changed?"

Momme blushed.

"Uhm... I told him that I love him..."

"Ah."

"So he's living with you know?", the soldier asked after a while.

Momme shook his head and stared into the water.

"No. He never stays for more than a few months. It's in his nature, you know? There's always a time when he has to leave and be on his own, wandering wherever his feet take him. But-" Momme looked up and smiled. 

"He said that his home can never be a place. But as long as he lives in my heart, he's always home."

The veteran gave him a smile tghat almost reached his eyes.

"He's a wise man", he said wistfully, looking down at the water.

Momme noticed a glittering in his eyes, but felt it was better to not mention it.

A new sound filled the silence between them, fusing with the light murmur of the water.

The next day, Momme saw the veteran with a group of other soldiers. In fact, he didn't see him lonely again. It only dawned on him much later he had never asked for his name.