January 14th, 1945

IT FELT AS IF IT WAS ONLY YESTERDAY WHEN I HAD WATCHED MY BROTHERS BE SHIPPED OFF TO FIGHT THE NAZIS. Both Bucky and Steve consistently wrote to me, while they were fighting the good fight.

Especially after seeing an advertisement in the theater starring a significantly taller Steve.

However, the second time that the letters stopped coming, a week later I got a telegram hand delivered to me by a lieutenant.

Both of my brothers were killed in action.

Bucky had fallen from a train, during a mission. Steve had crashed a bomber into the Atlantic in an effort to save New York.

A woman who worked with Steve, Peggy Carter, tried to visit whenever she could after the war ended. The older woman was quite good company.

Rebecca moved to Nevada soon after, and momma got sick a week after she left.

I got a job at the post office and started teaching piano to some kids around the neighborhood so we could keep the house.

As my world fell apart before my eyes, I was approached by some men in suits. I will spare any gory details and just say that they didn't appreciate my fighting back.