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A Rainy Day in New York City, The Airport
by
Theresa Cecilia Garcia
Part Two
It had been a long, tiresome flight. I had just returned from visiting some
distant relatives in Scotland. After what had happened just a few weeks ago, I
needed some time away from the city. I stayed at a little Bed and Breakfast in
the Highlands. I thought it would cheer me up. It’s so peaceful and beautiful
there. But it didn’t help. There was still too much "her" running through my
head. All I could do was think of how much I wished she were there so I could
share it with her. Then I cut the trip short soon after I realized that not even
a bottle of twenty year old Scotch whiskey and an ocean could separate me from
the pain and the fear that I had lost her forever.
Still, I waited to get off the plane. As usual I had been stuck in a seat in
coach over the wing. The only thing that ever made me nervous when flying was
the way the wing flaps extended out so far during the landing. All the bloody
marys in the world couldn't make that go away any more than they could make the
emptiness in my heart go away.
But the wing flaps were the least of my concerns. I was going to see her again.
She was going to see me again. She was supposed to be there waiting for me.
I exited the plane. I walked into the terminal. I was so afraid she wouldn't be
there. I was almost as afraid that she would be, because if she was, would she
be angry? Would she run again? But she was waiting there for me.
Once again she was more beautiful than any dream of beauty I had ever known.
We approached each other. We couldn’t speak. There were no words that could
express the power of that moment. We locked in a passionate embrace that went on
long enough for airport security to ask if there was a problem. I said, "No. Not
any more."
In collaboration with Robert Brian Newbill
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