Four hours, three minutes. Not that long since he’d held her close, his arms tight around her as if he wished he never had to let her go. His voice, soft and low in her ear, whispering words of love and hope and the future. Of the magic of the past three days they’d share, suspended between realities, with their world shrunk down to just the two of them, no past, no present. The words had washed over her, warming her, convincing her to believe in them again. Her arms were locked around him, trying to pull him even closer, trying to show him how much she would miss him, trying to communicate through her hug as much as his was telling her. She’d pressed her face into his neck, hiding a sad smile, attempting to block out the rush of the airport, the bustle of people moving towards holidays or real life. The last moments in their bubble were shattered as his flight was announced, and slowly they’d pulled apart, disentangling arms and hearts. Paul bent down and brushed his lips against hers, and just as quickly, stepped back. “I’ll call you when I land, ok?”. Lauren could do do nothing but nod, and watch as he handed over his boarding pass, and stepped onto the plane that would take him away from her, and back to a real life where she might not fit.
Four days ago, she’d barely given herself a chance to hope for a phone call. Four hours ago, he’d left her, again, with the promise of a phone call that she knew would come.
Another 270 words for Lauren and Paul, courtesy of a write4ten prompt from a couple of weeks back (I couldn’t post because my phone died halfway through our road trip and no phone = no interwebs = not a happy Dove). I came across the “anticipation” prompt within a day or two of “flight” from FSF, and the combination spawned both this and my last piece – before the flight and after.