My dearest Vela, I am writing with shaking talons and sand still packed beneath my feathers. Normandy is behind me now, though the sea keeps roaring in my ears like it wants us back. When the ramp fell, this Bald Eagle thought only of his Arctic Fox: your white fur, your sly little smile, and the way your tail curls when you know I am already beaten. God help me, fox, I wanted your teeth at my throat more than I wanted a cigarette. I am alive. For now. That feels like a miracle and a warning. When I come home, I will wrap my wings around you so tightly you will have to nip me to breathe. Keep my side of the bed warm, and do not let any other fool bird dream of you. Your nervous, filthy-hearted husband, Cal

all good

It's fine, I am sorry

soda

nvm they changed their steam username