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By William Odis Pate II Submitted by Madison Date: 2001 May 18 Comment on this Work [[2001.05.18.11.42.7687]] |
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Sitting near the window at my departure gate Monday afternoon dark clouds have gathered above the runway. Below them, people run around readying planes for takeoff. My left hand rests entwined with Jillian's. She's tired. I woke her up at six o'clock this morning by pulling her closer to me after finding that through the night we had drifted slightly apart; stealing kisses from her neck and smooth lips; relishing her warmth; drinking her in through my eyes. Sitting here now, her eyes seem to avoid contact with my own, instead they dart about the terminal and through the windows outside. Earlier, while feeding the ducks at a pond just outside the airport, she said to me, "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow," in a disheartened tone. I wonder if this rapidly growing distance between us before I've even left the ground is a product of our ignorance concerning the future. I lean closer and cover our interlaced fingers with my right hand. Outside the dark clouds have conquered nearly all the sky we can see through the window. It seems fitting. They match my feelings about leaving, I think to myself. Jillian's eyes look past me and out the window. "There must be a rainbow somewhere," she says, and leans forward, searching for one. http://inadequate.net/ |