100 words (not including title)
A Lancer Drabble by Vicki L. Nelson
His fever won't break; I sit vigil. I haven't had him long enough. His head thrashes on the pillow; he mumbles incoherently but does not wake.
Does he dream; what of?
I apply another cold compress to his forehead.
A blonde toddler with his mother's eyes reaches up his arms to me. I kneel to scoop him up and breathe in the scent of him.
“Papa?” he questions.
I wake to see the same blue-gray eyes staring up at me. Did I speak the name or did he?
So many years gone by; my child is finally home.