Captain Ethan Cross

The roar of the jet engines faded into the cold, crisp air as the military transport plane taxied to a halt on the rain-slicked tarmac of Falcon Crest Airport. Inside the cockpit, Captain Ethan Cross exhaled, his gloved hands relaxing on the controls. Outside, the faint glow of fireworks painted streaks of light across the predawn sky, signaling the first morning of a new year.

Stepping off the aircraft, he adjusted the collar of his jacket against the biting wind and began the solitary walk toward the terminal. Inside, the warmth and hum of life enveloped him. Families clustered near the baggage claim, laughter and tears mingling as loved ones embraced. A young couple kissed beneath a hanging banner that read "Welcome Home." Ethan’s boots echoed on the polished floor as he passed them, the rhythmic cadence a sharp contrast to the soft murmurs of reunion around him.

His duffel bag, slung over his shoulder, seemed heavier than it had at deployment—a weight not of gear but of time lost. He glanced at the crowd, his sharp brown eyes catching fleeting smiles, whispered promises, and the joyful tears of strangers.

But no one waited for him. Why do I bother looking...

As he moved further into the terminal, the festive air felt distant, like a song he couldn’t quite remember. The new year had arrived, full of beginnings for some, yet for Ethan, it felt more like an empty chapter yet to be written. "Damn holidays... I need a coffee." He grumbled to himself as a young child raced past his legs into the waiting arms of his father behind Ethan, squaring his shoulders, Ethan set off toward the cafe in the corner of the airport.