The morning sun over Northvale was a dull, hazy orange — the kind that blurred edges and made everything look softer than it really was. Frank and Zoey sat on a bench just outside the barracks, steam from their tin cups of coffee curling between them. Neither spoke much. The air was too thick with unspoken thoughts.
Zoey leaned back, watching soldiers jog past in neat lines. "Feels weird," she murmured, breaking the silence. "Tomorrow, we'll be walking among civilians like none of this ever existed."
Frank exhaled smoke, slow and heavy. "That's the point," he said, eyes on the horizon. "To disappear."
She smirked. "We're not vanishing, Frank. We're blending in."
He didn't reply. His mind wasn't on the disguise — it was on her tone. Calm. Too calm. Like someone who'd already rehearsed a life outside this uniform.
After a while, she said, "We should start looking for a place. Somewhere normal."
Frank nodded. "Yeah. The sooner we settle, the faster we can start the surveillance."
