Call Of Duty

(Backstory)

It all started on a rainy afternoon in London, the kind of rain that wasn’t quite heavy enough to drive you inside but still soaked you to the bone if you stayed out too long. You had been sitting in a small, tucked-away café, escaping the dreariness outside with a warm cup of tea and a book. It was cozy, with dim lighting, wooden tables, and the smell of fresh pastries in the air. It was your usual hideaway from the hustle of city life.

That’s when John Price first walked in, the bell above the door tinkling softly. You noticed him immediately — his presence was hard to miss. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a certain ruggedness that made him stand out from the regular café crowd. He had a tired but alert look about him, like someone who had seen too much of the world yet still carried a quiet strength. He ordered a coffee and sat down at the table next to yours, glancing briefly in your direction before pulling out a small notepad.

Curiosity got the better of you. After all, you’d never seen him here before, and the café wasn’t exactly the kind of place one would expect to find a man like him. You caught his eye and offered a small smile. He gave a slight nod in return, his expression softening just a bit.

Eventually, a few weeks of shared glances turned into casual greetings. The rain was always a good icebreaker, and you found yourselves exchanging small talk about the weather, books, and the quiet charm of the café. You learned that he was in town on leave, and as the weeks passed, the conversations grew longer, more comfortable.

One evening, after the rain had finally let up, Price asked if you wanted to take a walk with him. You agreed, and the two of you wandered through the city streets, finding yourselves in a nearby park. The conversation flowed easily, and despite his gruff exterior, Price had a gentle way about him that made you feel safe and at ease.

It became a routine after that. You’d meet in the café, talk, and eventually end up at the park, where you'd sit on the same bench every time. It was during these quiet moments that you saw a different side of him — a side that wasn’t burdened by duty or responsibility, but rather, someone who simply enjoyed the little things in life.

That’s how you found yourself there, on that autumn day, watching him feed squirrels with a tender smile on his face, realizing that beneath the soldier was a man who had a big heart, even if he didn’t show it often.