Heading out

28 Jun

She thought she really didn’t want to leave. This was the only place she had called home, for way more years than she cared to remember. Tossed about through every dip and curve that could be thrown at one person and she had survived them all. “Until that last one”, she mumbled sardonically to herself. “yep, she was a real doozy.” They had always said it was just a fine line between love and hate and standing in the airport weighing her options, she felt as if she was a prime example of how one could straddle that line.

On one side she still loved him. It didn’t matter what he had done, whom he had done or even if he was done doing it, finally. She didn’t care. You don’t love someone for a multitude of years and just one day toss it all out the window. Well, at least on her part that is. Evidently he had been able to shuck that coat of monogamy pretty damn quick when something twenty-two years old with perky boobs had waltzed by and when she started thinking of it in those terms, she realized that she really did care. That would put her on the other side of the whole love/hate line and the bitterness and the fury would rise up in her like bile from a bottomless pit. She would feel the aura of her mood escalating and was afraid that the heat of her anger could be felt by everyone that maneuvered around her.

In a moment of rationality, she had come to the conclusion that she must leave. She would not be able to survive if she stayed to watch the whole tragic scene play out, so now she found herself trying to figure out to where she would run. She had packed light,  leaving the house, cars and the years of accumulated mementos, but with a moment of foresight, had raided his wallet and now had plastic to burn.

Standing in middle of the terminal she began to turn in a circle, reading the neon lights, listening to the boarding announcements while stewing in her own juices. “Flight 1422 Final boarding to New York at # 4.” “Hong Kong Flight 6589, now boarding at #11.” “Pre-boarding of Flight 980 to Miami will begin shortly at #18”

The queues were starting to move and it was now or never. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a quarter. Flipping it in the air she sighed heavily, “Heads for the right, tails for the last door on the left”.

Location, Monday
The last door on the left

1 Comment

Posted by on June 28, 2010 in Flash Fiction



One response to “Heading out

  1. Ann

    June 29, 2010 at 12:23 pm

    Awesome. I’m ready for the rest of this story…………


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