Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Edinburgh Departures

They were dressed in black. Corporate Bohemian. They could have been mistaken for a couple. She talked incessantly, her coffee cup at her lips. She was being herself, he guessed. He had spent the day trying desperately to be something other than what he was, trying to be something she might want, something more Corporate than Bohemian. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear. His own voice was loud in his head. Don't leave. Not yet. Please. She placed the cup on its saucer. 'I'd better go through,' she said. He embraced her. It wasn't like the last time, twenty years before, when he was the one who was leaving, when she had begged him to stay as he wiped tears from her eyes. 'I wish I'd had kids with you,' he said, but it was too late. She was gone, turning the corner into Security, the place where they check for things you shouldn't be carrying.


  1. I stumbled upon your blog by pure chance and have been amazed every since. This >wee fiction< in paricular has moved me in a special way; I don't really know why or how, but it's a pleasant feeling. Incidentally, I am Czech and have "lived" just a few bus stops from Edinburgh for a year. I'd had my share of departures and goodbyes. So anyway....... Thank you.

  2. Thank you so much, Linda - I appreciate that.