All this time, it has always been her.
Those words keep on echoing inside his mind, from the time he got back in his car until he drive away as the airport slowly shrinks in his rear-view mirror. All this time, it has always been her. And all the time he badly wanted it to be her, if only timing wasn't such a jerk.
"Why me? Why is it have to be me again?" he asked himself, steering through the confines of his thoughts he couldn't process as fast as he can maneuver the steering wheel, hell-bent on going home even if it means crashing his car on someone else's front door. This is such a mess, he thought. He knows how he is used to shifting gears as easy as switching TV channels when bored. What happened now?
He pulled over by the emergency bay. The sound of the airplane overhead was so loud that he had the urgency to get out of the car.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Something punctured another hole in his heart. Damn her, and that Proust questionnaire she forced him to answer. He had enough of it—of people coming, and then leaving for good. Nothing's new, except her leaving, too. Only her smile lingered longer; that last, cryptic message that leads to another maze. What was her answer? What does that smile even mean? Damn her.
The airplane flew north, and he knew she's in there. He glanced at his watch and figured her flight was just in time.
YOU ARE READING
The Sunshine Factory
RomanceI refuse to turn her into a postcard promise, a muscle memory, or even a long distance phone call. But eventually, she turned herself as all of the above. If a heartbeat can fly like arrows, mine might fly farther than it meant to. Just for her.
