There is indeed a type of fighter jet called the Wild Weasel, designed to mimic the characteristics of its namesake. It is not the most formidable weapon, but because it can refuel mid-air, it can linger in the skies for a long time—seemingly eternal.
A woman gave a Wild Weasel jet to a man.
He believed she loved him, but she loved another man. She spent ten years on him—he was her everything, but he stripped her of her dignity.
It turns out love has only two outcomes: you either gain a great deal of dignity or lose a great deal of it.
He promised to love her for seventy summers,
But the summers faded quietly away.
Love, it seems, is like drinking poison with a smile—heartbreaking and gut-wrenching, yet without regret.
The Wild Weasel, who had lost its dignity, left. Only after he was gone did she realize it was he who gave her dignity.
He once said that nothing in this world truly disappears—it only transforms into another form. A man who dies may transform into the dust that rests on his woman’s skin.
She knows he will return. And yet, the one who says goodbye first always holds the upper hand.
[The End]
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