She said she will be here. It was a promise we made to each other. The last bus approached. The air became still, the lights dimmed, the doors opened.
Sitting on the chair, my eyes closed. The vision reappeared.
“What do you see, Jane?” Dr. Henry asked.
“It’s the woman, the umbrella, and the water, there are no colours.”
“Do you see the buildings? Are they still there?”
I could hear his mind, analysing all that rattled from my head.
I could smell the gas, bleeding through the pipes. I shudder to think that this entire neighborhood could become nonexistent in minutes. The right thing will be to tell them to leave, but if we did, he could make good his promise and ignite us all the same. I waited for the call. The pay phone rang, just as he had said; on the hour, every hour.
“Hello, this is detective Charles speaking, is this…?”
The alarm went off. Just as he had promised. Life meant very little to him. The only thing standing between the innocent and him, was us.
The watch stood on the table, reminding him that with each passing moment, she could die. The detectives told him that they will handle it, but he had other plans for how this night was going to end.
It was on the tip of her tongue. His name. She had called it many times before, but tonight was different. She knew that breaking her cover meant death for both of them.
For a moment, she stood there on the front porch, alone, her arms draped around her body. The bottom of her eyes felt heavy. Hoping the east wind too calm her heart, her eyes it drenched instead.
“DESERTING THIS DAY OF HURT”
Copyright © 2016 Annmarie Deen & David Alexian
All rights reserved.