Summer was over and she’s on the next flight back home. Her bright red dress, almost coming alive against the drab hues of the airport terminal, made her seem like a goddess in his eyes, but all he could do was watch as the line grew shorter and shorter. He caught a glimpse of her looking back, and couldn’t help but wonder if it was a hint of sorrow that glistened in her eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing? You’re just going to let her go? You’re a fucking pussy. Tell her that this is not just any ordinary fling. Tell her, damn it. Tell her.”
But he just stood there, and she turned away. She handed her ticket to the attendant and never looked back again. He watched as she became nothing more than a silhouette, her heels echoing in the distance, becoming haunting songs of the nights they shared together.
“You’re an idiot. A goddamn idiot.”
He remembered a passion that seemed to burn at a higher intensity than the summer heat. Three-minute conversations and two-hour silences, comfortably shared underneath a single shared sheet. Half-empty bottles of cheap liquor. Stolen kisses and stolen hearts that beat in unison, a symphony in the dark. Watching sunsets and making love until sunrise. A love story that could have transcended past a single season, but his silence broke the probability of it ever happening again.
She leaned her head on the plane window, thinking back to the man she could have loved for eternity, how his voice seemed to heal every scar inflicted upon her in the past, how his touch made her feel alive when she though it was no longer possible. A single tear, a key in the ignition. He drove away from the point of farewell as she watched the land underneath her become nothing more than remnants. Up in the air, yet she felt hell’s reach, and he reached home, feeling emptier than ever before.
Seasons may fade, but feelings never truly go away. They became one with the seasons, and when fall comes around she knows that he’ll still be on her mind. When fall comes around, he knows that her lips are all that he’ll dream about. How he could have had it all, but let it slip away. The possibilities of a budding romance dissipated, becoming one with the dying leaves, crumpling underneath footsteps, being raked away into piles and thrown away. She sits alone at home, reminiscing on the nights when she felt alive in his arms, their skin glistening against the moonlight. The morning after, the sun embraced them with the promise of forever. Or so she thought. But forever only lasted a summer, and next summer is still a year away.
It’s still a year away.