Literature

Epilogue: flash

There's a slight frown on my face as I peer into my empty coffee mug. I let out a sigh, feeling all the energy drain from my body. An old battery in a telly remote you keep forgetting to replace.

I gaze at my reflection in the window, eyes tired. Dark bags and being stretched too thin. My fingers run through my curls. I've been so on edge and that's so...unlike me. This final draft just means so much to me. All the pressure that has been building up inside me is ready to explode. Fizz. When you drop mentos in a bottle of soda and it bubbles up and bubbles and bubbles until pop! All the tension, the duress, that feeling of being trapped vanishes and the cap is flying off and there's sticky carbonated beverage spraying everywhere.

I've reached those moments that come right before the blast. The building anticipation, the unease and waiting to break free. I just need the green light. That one decisive phone call. The okay from the publisher.

A life defining moment. "We're a go. It's being sent to the publisher."

You are going to be an author. Some of the stress falls away from me, a slight weight is lifted from my shoulders and now I see a reflection of my smile. A small smile sprawled across my face but it's encouraging.

Actually, it's everything.

My dial tone. Ring ring. I tap my ring clad fingers on the table, growing slightly agitated. This would be so liberating. It would be a new step, a mighty accomplishment. Turning a new leaf in my life.

Writing a new chapter (not that it's hard for me to write those haha).

"Please answer," I mutter to myself, eyes focused on the drizzle of rain as it falls outside. There are patterned umbrellas scattered, a bustle on the street. People hailing cabs and splashes of water against the curbs. No one plays in puddles on the sidewalk. It's a hurry up and wait mentality, raindrops slicked beneath expensive dress shoes. I hope they aren't genuine leather, what a good way to ruin your shoes. It's a bit dizzying. Everyone rushing to cubicles and corporate offices and whatever appointments. No one ever thinks to slow down. To stop and dance in the rain-

[flash]

"Raindrops remind me that the clouds can feel."

"Harry," he mumbles. "I think I may love you."

"Hello?"

"Hey, did I get you at a bad time? I suck at these time zones...still."

"You're five hours behind me," he chuckles, sounding slightly exhausted.

"I'm sorry," I swallow thickly, voice whispered. "It's late there, isn't it? I always do this. I'm sorry."

"You might have mentioned that," I swear I can feel him smile through the line. "You know, the whole being sorry part."

"I'm s-."

"Don't you dare say it Harry."

Our laughter is in unison. There's heat in my cheeks and I can't wipe the smile off my face. I press the back of my hand to my skin, feeling giddy. When did I start feeling this way again?

It's been two years. I shake the cobwebs from my brain, try to fathom the reality of that. I left him standing there in the airport and didn't look back. It didn't sink in how he couldn't hate me for it but it just struck me recently that he let go because he had to. Because he loved me with his entire being and here I am, smiling like a fool because I finally understand.

I'm reciprocating those feelings again and falling ten times harder. There's wind beneath my wings this time and I'm not afraid. I know I'll land on my feet. Or maybe it will be more awkward and clumsy than that, but either way he'd catch me because we always promised that for each other. Bend sometimes but never break.