She looked out of her window, observing the way the plane flew across the sky so effortlessly, leaving a slim cloud in its wake. He’s in there, she thought. He’s in there and he’s coming home. Her hands clenched the windowsill until they were white. Her eyes widened as her beam grew. The sound drained from the world, creating a silence so sweet that tears prickled her eyes.
Their special silence, all theirs.
The plane hovered, never quite leaving her sight. She could almost see him waving at her through the miniscule window, so far away, yet so very close. His chocolate eyes kissed hers, his enveloping shoulders ready to throw themselves at her. He waved.
And, before she could take a breath, the plane flew away. Left. Disappeared. Its trail evaporated, the moisture finding her eyes. Slowly, she looked down at her wrinkled hands. They were not the hands they used to be. A rush of anger took hold of her, as it always did. She slapped her left hand with her right, digging her nails into the tired flesh.
The hands, it was always the hands.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, before examining the damage. A scratch, a graze.
Not so bad.
She sighed, turning back inside, to the dark room. Bright flowers hid in the corners, squashed by the heavy atmosphere. The air weighed down on her, a dizziness rattling her head. She sat on the bed, closed her eyes.
It was torture. Torment. Poison.
It was the only clear memory she had left.
That day; the day he was supposed to come back, the brave soldier returning home.
Supposed to come back. Supposed to come back.
But never did, never did.
She opened her eyes, the dizziness stronger than ever.
“You left me,” she whimpered. “You left me all alone.”
But somewhere, somewhere in the far distance, a light flickered.
“I’m still here.”
I also enjoyed how you fooled your audience in the beginning, making us think one thing, then correcting us. That was really good. I also