One Journey, the Final

Chapter 22:

When the plane landed, I gave Donald a hug, and thanked him for his company.

I found out a few months afterward he died six weeks later, ready to be with his wife.

Exiting the airport, I quickly signalled a cab over. Soon enough, a big yellow car came over. After fitting my suitcase in the trunk and sliding into the old brown leather seat, a man in a green barret said in a thick British accent,

             "Where to you lass?" Pulling out my phone, and read off the address I had found on some celebrity finder website.

            "American accent. You a tourist?"

           "Not exactly. Just a quick visit for someone special," I said, listening to my voice. American accents are so boring.

           "Say, er you Annabel Price? The girly-friend of 'arry Styles?" the driver asked. I felt my cheeks flush. I was not used to having people know who I was.

          "Yes." I said sheepishly.

         "He seems like a good lad. I watched 'im with all of those friends of 'is on the X-Factor. Say, aren't you two engaged?" I nodded.

         "Congratulations. I'm sure you missed 'im while he was on that tour. Say, would you like me to turn on the radio? P'raps they're playing his music on the radio," the driver said, fumbling with a few buttons on the radio. We were driving to Harry's parents house. At least, that's where I believe he is. After the tour, I imagine he'd like to spend some time with them. I gazed out my window. London was so pretty, filled with buildings and a enchanting atmosphere.  

         "Pretty ain't she?" he asked, talking about London. I bit my lip and nodded my head, my stomach swirling. I loved the old time feel of so much history in the architectural design of the stone buidlings. Beautiful European people walked along the streets, looking so.....mature. It definitely was not like walking around in New York. Here, I felt magical. In New York, I felt like I was going to get mugged at any moment. I had to force myself to tear my eyes away when the radio played, and a One Direction song came on. He immediately started to sing along, and I joined him at the chorus. Is it horrible I don't even know my fiancee's songs on the radio? I know the ones that I truly enjoy listening to. This wasn't exactly one of them, but I'd never tell him that. After a while, I began to feel car sick. This drive was taking forever. The last thing I remember looking at before I fell asleep was a red phone booth.

               "We're here, Miss Annabel," he said, tapping my on the shoulder. My head shot up. I had just woken up from a strange dream of me riding the London Eye Ferris Wheel with a monkey. Where was I? Who? What? Huh? I looked around, fear rushing down me, until I remembered what happened. I cleared my throat, thanked him, and paid the bill in full. I clambered out of the smelly cab, grabbed my suitcase, and walked towards the one thing that stood between Harry and I. A door.