She waited in line, stepping forward every five minutes, a few feet closer to gone. He watched her leave.
They had sat together at a café in the airport, squeezing out words that had to travel through a dense, awkward atmosphere. Knowing he had work the next day, he’d bought an overpriced sandwich; he’d even made a quiet joke about it. Now he clutched it in one hand, and watched her leave.
His breathing quickened, and he felt a familiar pressure behind his eyes; he would not shut them, would not risk letting the “dust in his eyes” streak tears down his face. He swore to himself, over and over and over- I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry. His right hand squeezed the sandwich, knuckles whitening.
She was two passengers away from the front of the line, and she turned around to give him, she swore, one last look. Staring back, between bodies and over heads, she saw him; saw him standing there, blank faced, something held tight in one hand. He was completely emotionless, showing nothing. She turned away. Covering her mouth with one shaking palm she pulled her bag forward with the other. There was only one more person in front of her.
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5 comments:
wrote this on paper, on a table, in the middle of an empty gym, sunlight streaming down on me.
feels like home.
i remember sitting in church and you telling me about writing this.
*reads comment from you*
that was such an epic spot. one chair at a table that could fit six, it was dead center, in an empty gym, and the sun was shining directly on the table.
i read this one after i read the two entries that follow it. reading the series backwards was interesting...i like it.
i read the three series that make up this story in reverse order. i almost like it better that way
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