ALB to SAN
By Troy Harris
The boy clasped the girl so firmly he feared she might shatter. Leah snapped their picture, but the girl averted her gaze towards an older couple at the next terminal, entwined, shedding tears.
The boy's hand caressed her hair, bringing it softly against his cheek. Tears streamed down his face. A man scolded his young daughter for her ceaseless running around the airport, to no avail. The daughter collided with a businessman engaged in a tense phone conversation.
Leah's voice cut through the chaos of bustling travelers, "They've called final boarding."
Yet, the boy and girl remained lost in their own world. The girl memorized his scent, a blend of sweetness with an undeniable masculine undertone. To her side, a patron at the terminal bar accidentally sent his beer crashing to the ground. Glass scattered.
"You must go now," Leah said. "I’m not driving you back here tomorrow."
Their kiss—surely their last—quickly lost meaning in the rush of parting. The loudspeaker blared his name, tinged with irritation. A quick goodbye. He turned and dashed through the jetway, no time to look back.
The girl and Leah retraced their steps through the airport and back to the car.
Leah offered her phone to the girl. "Would you like to see the picture I took?"
"I’d rather not."
The End
Troy Harris, an Arizona native, has devoted most of his career to public education technology. His writing has been featured in the short story compilation "Welcome Home" from Four Chambers Press and the Phoenix Art Museum project "We/Here."
