Photo: © Al Forbes 2016
I know I’ve done wrong, and for that I’m paying the price. But in those key moments to come, she can’t be by my side – and that’s what really hurts. Okay, we’d had our bumps along the road, but we’d always been together.
Then I went and made one mistake too many.
But as I take that long walk to the Chair, I swear she’s whispering to me – telling me it’ll be alright. And when they ask me to speak, though I fumble on my words, her soft voice gets me through.
I can’t see her face, but I imagine her being in the parking lot, sitting in her old white Ford, until it’s all over. She’ll be staring at the snow, watching it drift down to the ground. Just waiting.
I remember the snow falling, on the night we broke up. When I left her in the car, a strange look on her face and her neck at a weird angle. It was just a little fight – it shouldn’t have ended that way.
At least there was no blood, she would have hated that – messing up her seats. Footprints in the snow led the Police straight to my door. But I didn’t care. Without her, my life was already over. Since then it’s just been the formalities.
As I they settle me into the chair, I smile as I think of joining her. She’ll be waiting for me and I’ll apologise. And then we’ll both be happy again, sitting in her old white Ford.
This story is inspired by the photo supplied by Al Forbes of Sunday Photo Fiction, January 17th 2016. For more details click the logo.
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