Departure

I watched as the airplane took off, the thunderous roar of the Boeing 777 inaudible through the thick tempered glass wall, but the vibrations could be felt. It was not until my brain registered the sharp taste of copper did I realize that my lower lip was held captive between my teeth.

“You carry my heart. Always.”

That was what I said, and that was exactly what I believed. And now, my heart was on board the airborne plane, soaring through the skies at 150 miles per hour.
_

A cab drove me home. I was sure there were laws against driving with a broken heart, and I was a law abiding citizen. My house was a mess, but an organized one — I knew precisely where everything was, down to the wooden horse that was presented to me by my grandfather. I took out the piece of paper from my back pocket, it was a list of things she needed me to mail to her. In the corner it was written, I’ll pay you back.

I got to work. The major components in the list were books, lots of them. Thankfully, the bookshelf in our, scratch that, my room, made the search easier. All was done except for one particular book, the one she was reading before her departure. I was surprised that she had forgotten to pack it, then again, she was quite amnesic at times.

I found it on the nightstand, with a tiny blue box resting on the white book cover. I immediately recognized it, after all I was the one who bought it. I opened the box, the platinum band rested fittingly in the blue cushion. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears threatening to fall, You knew. You knew and you ran.