March, 2nd, 1919: Chicago, Illinois, United States of America
John Hanson walked down the streets, his hands in his pockets his head held high looking forward down the sunny Sunday morning. He was home from the war, unlike so many others. His face darkened for a moment before he pushed the darker thoughts out of his mind. He was home, his mother and father had met him smiling and in tears at the train station. His older sister had introduced him to his twin nieces, who were already able to talk and walk. He smiled again, that was the kind of thing he had fought for. That they had been told they were fighting for.
He turned on a dime walking into 'Ol Pat's Butcher Shop. He had been coming here since we was still in his play shorts covered in dirt, his mother dragging around by his hand. "Mornin' Pat." John said leaning on the counter calling into the back. "It's Johnny Hanson. I'm here to pick up a ham for ma'." He looked around at the inside of the shop. It was exactly the same as it had been before he left, exactly the same as when he was a boy for that matter. He heard Pat walk up to the counter, but upon turning instead of being greeted by the large frame of the butcher John found himself staring at a rather thin, but strong female shape. His eyes ran up until he met with dark brown eyes set deep into a round face with black hair tide into a tight bun at the back.
"Ten cents please." The woman, who was not Pat said.
"Um, what?" John asked blinking.
"Ham for Hanson. Ten cents please." The woman asked again, the stony expression on her face unchanged.
"Where's Pat?" John asked slightly annoyed. "Pat! Pat you 'ol fat bastard! It's Johnny! Come on out!" John let out a small laugh as his eyes darted from the woman to the room she had come from. He let out a little nervous laugh again. The woman cleared her throat, now sounding annoyed herself.
"Your ham is five cents... Johnny." She put pressure on his name sticking out an up turned hand towards him.
"Where's Pat?" John asked as he handed the woman the money.
"My father died two years ago." Her words made the hair on John's neck and arms stand on their ends.
"I'm, I'm sorry. I did't know. I was in the war... and... and." He tried to explain. "I'm sorry for your loss. What, what killed him?"
"Heart break. We lost both my older brothers and my younger brother in the same week in that stupid war. Then I lost my father a month later."
John just stared. "I..."
"I have to keep this shop open for myself and my mother." Her stony face seemed to crack, for such an instant that John wasn't sure if he had seen it. "Have a nice day Mr. Hanson." She turned walking back into her office. John stood there stupidly for a moment, before turning and walking home. In much less a positive mood as he had been before.