“Can you hear me?”
Momentarily she stirs.
I curl myself around her, chin on her shoulder.
“Can you feel me?”
She rubs her cheek into the pillow.
“Will you miss me?”
A soft moan, the barest whimper.
“Say you’ll remember me.”
Her eyelids fly open, body tense as she stares into the darkness.
The bedside phone is ringing, urgently shrill with news that will change her world, and that of many others. Yawning, she picks it up and listens.
Her hand covers her mouth, and helplessly I watch the silent scream form.
“I won’t be far away, love,” I whisper, unheard.
This story is from March 2014, a year which turned out to be a bad year in aviation history. As I’ve said before, I’m not comfortable writing sentimental stuff, but I’ve heard it said that if you want to improve, you should write about something that makes you feel uncomfortable. Thanks to Rochelle for giving the longer-serving members of the Friday Fictioneers an opportunity to take a breather; I just hope I can do the business when we start up with new prompts. 😦