Home Again

She knocked on the door.  She knocked softly so that she could leave and tell everybody, "I did try, but he didn't answer."

Silence.  "See, I tried. I knew he wouldn't answer."

She began to make her way to the car.  But someone wasn’t going to let her walk away.
He stood a few feet away, his back against her car.  He had been there all along, waiting.  In his arms, he hugged the same bouquet of flowers that had won her heart so long ago.  He looked directly at her, but his gaze didn’t hurt. 

And suddenly she knew that everything - everything - was going to be all right.  More than all right.

He met her halfway and swept her into his arms.  He hadn't forgotten how gorgeous she smelled, how perfectly she fit in his embrace.  He couldn't.

"I'm home again. I'm home." 

“I’m home!”

She wanted to shout.  She wanted to dance.  She wanted to question.  She wanted to run.  She wanted to know.

She closed her eyes and the only thing she knew, the only thing that mattered, was that he had answered.

Window to My Seul

"Oh my God, how are you?  You look so good!"

"Look at you, girl!  You look hot!"

"Is this your place?  Oh my goodness, it's gorgeous!  How much do you pay a month?"

"Happy birthday, girl!  How old are you again?"

"Did you lose weight?  You look like you've lost weight."

"Oh my goodness, I have to introduce you to this guy.  I totally thought of you when I met him.  You'll love him."

"What have you been up to lately?"

"Of course I made it!  Are you kidding?  I wouldn't miss this for anything!"

"Thanks for setting this up.  It's so great to see everybody again!"

The drinks made their rounds; the food came soon after.  Glasses clink'ed and clanked.

Conversation buzzing, humming, peaking.  Music, steady and faithful in the background.  The laughter came easily.

Suddenly she stood up, champagne in hand.  Smiles, nods.  The buzzing continued.  The music didn't miss its cue.

But, by the window, overlooking the city lights and the silent, lazy vehicles, someone began to cry. 

She lifted the glass to her lips.

"Breathe.  Just breathe."

Je ne sais pas pourquoi

On her way out, she instinctively turned to the left and took a quick glance in the mirror. 
She stopped.  She didn't mean to.

It wasn't the hair.  "I just curled it, too.  Why does that section never,...Damn."  It wasn't the make-up.  "Is my eye makeup uneven?  Is this lipstick the right color on me?  Mom says,..."  It wasn't the skin.  "It'll be dark anyway.  Whatever."  It wasn't the outfit.  "Did I gain weight?  Oh God, does it show?  Should I change?  Oh, screw it, I'm late already!"  All these thoughts tumbled too quickly through her to stir her notice or care.
 
She had begun to turn the corner of the hallway, her heels and jacket in hand and arm, quickly stuffing lipstick, cell phone and keys in her purse, when the thought made its way through the crowds of questions.

"Why do you even bother?"

She stopped.  Her purse wouldn’t close.  Turning around, she looked in the mirror again, stepping closer.  She turned the light on.

It was supposed to be a quick glance.