The projectiles' impacts from the enemy mortars fell close to our trench, deafening my ears. I got up disoriented, full of lumps of earth and stone. Fortunately, I was still safe and sound. I fitted my helmet and checked my pocket and I did not find it. I looked around and I saw it about five feet from me, lying on the ground. Karen's compass. The needle pointed between south and west. Pigeon Point Light Station, California, came to mind. Bringing me the memory of that place where I saw her for the last time. It was early days of September 1939. The morning was cool, the breeze brought the salty taste of the sea. She was wearing that blue dress I gave her on her birthday. She stayed stand still, she could not erase her worried expression. The wind waved her hair as a signal of goodbye or probably as a farewell. I remembered how her fingers did not let go of mine trying to cling to a nonexistent hope. We were aware that the war had begun. I had to be at my army detachment that same afternoon. I took one last look of her from the window of my Ford truck and I left. That frame was engraved into my memory forever. Neither of us said goodbye that day.
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