It could be any given Sunday. There she is, standing at the corner, in her usual running attire – tank top, shorts, and sneakers – her leg hooked over the other as she chooses what songs to listen to, hair up in the perfect messy ponytail. But it isn’t any Sunday. Instead of picking out songs, she is texting. And instead of stretching, she’s waiting. With her luggage. For a taxi to come.
It had been a stupid mistake. I tried to tell her that. It would never happen again. She never answers back. She just kept packing.
Today, instead of leaving for a morning run, she is simply leaving. I stare at the back of her head through the livingroom window. All my powers of concentration bent on the task of willing her to turn around. To look at me. To change her mind.
But she doesn’t. She remains in the same relaxed position.
The taxi arrives. The driver gets out and stows the luggage in the trunk. He opens the back door and she slides in. Then they take off. She never looks back. And I stand here, looking at the spot where she once was, still willing her to come back to me. But she’s gone.
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Thanks to Jeremy’s Weekly Challenge.