Ghosts
“Are you leaving?” she was looking out the window at the car in the driveway, engine running.
“You know I can't stay.”
She slumped forward and leaned her head against the cold glass. I wanted to go to her, pull her in my arms and tell her I would never leave. I walked out the door, instead.
The air was bitter, but I didn't care. I just kept moving not daring to look back. The car was old but the interior was clean. The driver, an older man, smiled at me through his mirror. I nodded, and we were on our way.
She was my first love, the one I still remember. The one I always left.
I didn't have to
The thought was irresistible. I could stop, go back. I could make this right even if for a moment. Why not? What was left to lose? I told the driver to stop, rushed from the car as he called to me, raced to the house, pushed the open the door.
“I'll stay. I won't go. Please! Just be here!”
My answer came in silence and dust. The house was empty. No one was there. I fell to my knees, trying to find her memory in the cold and bitter night. I looked to the window, the last place I saw her, head pressed against the glass, a ghost of the past.
Nothing remained.