Fiction

Smitten

Photo credit: tOrange. Licensed CC-BY.
Photo credit: tOrange.
Licensed CC-BY.

Hard to think now, gazing into her eyes as we lay side by side, that we’d only met on the train an hour ago. I’d been standing at first. She sat with a mother and two small kids, chatting away; she’d been so gentle, loving, playful with them. Occasionally, she’d look out the window. Several times she caught my eye in the glass, and smiled at my dimmer reflection. When the family got off at Bristol I sat down, the carriage empty now. We chatted about our lives, her boyfriend, my wife and grown up daughters. A generation gap meant nothing, and our whole world turned around.

Laying next to her, I knew the timing stank, but she was The One. A soul mate I’d searched for all my life. I felt like an old fool. Couldn’t feel anything anymore. The only imperfection of her face, a face I knew I’d admire the rest of my life, was the blood trickling from the corner of her eye and nose. The light flickered and died, but some spark gave me glimpses of her. They wouldn’t save her in time. She smiled apologetically. I did the same.

“Sorry” I said.

“It’s ok. Next time.”


Originally written for Six Minute Story.