I take off my blue winter coat and hang it on the rack. I slid on the wooden seat, its skin already chaffed and its screws so loose that it creaks, and take out my laptop. I draw the courage to write on the electronic document the words I should be speaking before you. I try to draft a letter to explain to you why I wanted to cancel my flight.
It was raining too hard and over the microphone, the pilot said the flight would thrive and rest assured, we would land safe to our destination. But I did not believe the voice. Who could survive such horror? The pilot maneuvered the plane with grace, amidst all the rising thunders and tears of the skies, and it landed safe and sound on the ground of the destination.
Without stopping by at the hotel room I reserved near the university, I went straight in this room. In these four walls, I can only hear the echoes of my fingers, writing this letter of excuses sans explanations. During the flight, I prepared the speech I would tell you once I see you. Now, however, I lost all the letters in the smoke of my fears.
Should I apologize? For caving in the temptation to see you again after my release in the prison cell—to tell you that I was finally announced not guilty for the death of your husband?
The clink of high heels ring in the hallway. With a briefcase in your hand—and is that a ring I see?—you turn to me and the color of your face turns red before it pales.
I have forgotten the words again.
I wonder too about the reason I wanted to cancel my flight.
WORD COUNT: 294
Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.