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We had agreed to meet here a few years ago, as we walked along the river on a cold moonlit night. She had her head on my chest and was humming her favorite tune - a jazz number from the era gone by, about lovers separated by time. The small town down the hills was already sleeping and we had absolute silence around us. As we sat right there, looking at the stars after making love slowly under the moonlit sky, she asked for this promise. It was not something she would normally do, she was just not the sort; perhaps she was just happy and content then. We cuddled into each other and agreed to meet at the same place, ten years from then. Maybe she already knew then that we won't be together for long; however, for me it was a promise in blood, and I always thought we would come here again, together...
The coffee was ready now, my fifth so far. Smoke and coffee don't always go well, but I was savoring its bitterness today; it helped me kill the time and also relive the past. I had buried it with much struggle a couple of years after she suddenly decided to leave me. The end was as torrential as our brief spell of togetherness, but the parting always remained incomplete, open. But she moved on, and eventually so did I.
For the last one year, the itch was growing again to meet her one last time and seek answers for all my unanswered questions, or perhaps just to hold her like I did in our moments together. I often looked into blank spaces, flickering lights, and slow moving fan and wondered if she would even remember the promise she had taken from me. I knew that she would, just as I was sure she would come and meet me one last time today...
The sound of the chirping birds woke me up, and I got up with a start. Warm early sunlight was filtering into the room through the wooden blinds; somehow I had dozed off after my nth cup of coffee. Was there a faint familiar smell lingering around my chair? Had my coffee table been moved and the cigarettes collected neatly and kept in the makeshift ashtray by someone else? Everything looked just the same, but my heart was not ready to believe that nothing happened while I was living through hell in my sleep. Maybe she was here last night as I slept off on the rocking chair, maybe it was just my imagination. My heart struggled with more questions...
For the last one year, the itch was growing again to meet her one last time and seek answers for all my unanswered questions, or perhaps just to hold her like I did in our moments together. I often looked into blank spaces, flickering lights, and slow moving fan and wondered if she would even remember the promise she had taken from me. I knew that she would, just as I was sure she would come and meet me one last time today...
The sound of the chirping birds woke me up, and I got up with a start. Warm early sunlight was filtering into the room through the wooden blinds; somehow I had dozed off after my nth cup of coffee. Was there a faint familiar smell lingering around my chair? Had my coffee table been moved and the cigarettes collected neatly and kept in the makeshift ashtray by someone else? Everything looked just the same, but my heart was not ready to believe that nothing happened while I was living through hell in my sleep. Maybe she was here last night as I slept off on the rocking chair, maybe it was just my imagination. My heart struggled with more questions...
Already late for my train I rushed out quickly. It was finally time I moved on, seven years is a long while, and for once I was willing to start all over again. This was finally closure for me; or so I thought...