Through the Weekend: Sunday


The room was paid up through the weekend.

Sunday came.

4:30 a.m. Decimation was nigh. Two hearts bled; parallel trails of iron scented crimson stained the flooring as the lovers navigated the proper metropolitan airport terminal, hand gripping hand. Rowena mutely rehearsed a sendoff while fighting back the acid rising in her esophagus; Lucas blinked, and bit back tears, chewing open his bottom lip. The airport was practically a ghost town, and the calmness only added to their feelings of desolation.


One last kiss; the dive was bottomless and brief.

So Rowena watched her flame flicker through security, dejected. The further away he moved, the dimmer he grew. She watched him until he was no more, wholly snuffed.


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