Flying Lessons (9)
She smiled, putting one hand on his shoulder. The gray strands in his hair have made him look noble somehow. Like a sad king.
“Just say the word, Kate. And it will be like nothing had ever happened. Just live with me for a while, we can make this work. I know we can.”
In a way, she had clipped his wings too. By leaving like that. No way to heal a wound, just like a severed leg with the nerves still feeling the ghost of pain as if the leg was still there. No farewell. No closure.
“Good-bye, Paul. I’ll never forget you.”
“At least let me invite you to dinner. Let’s talk and catch up on lost time?” The pleading thick in his eyes and in his voice. She had to be strong, no second chances or time for nostalgia.
A kiss on the cheek and she was gone in a rustle of wind and violence. Her pigtails swiping his face unintentionally, though perhaps intentionally (he wondered about that later) as she left the restaurant.
He stands looking after her retreating figure. His eyes sad at first, then smiling.