The Airport (working Title)

[Tobias]

I stared at her long and hard. She looked right back at me.
What had happened?

I'm not quite sure how you would put it: The world just doesn't seem to work whenever I try my hand. I get dealt the cards, yet someone some where has the better hand.
I'm ready to fold.
She reads it as well as anyone could. How couldn't you read it? I practically forced the tear back. All I have left is a blank face.

I always smiled like a bastard.
But she loved that about me...How she saw me for what I was, and not for what I could be. She knew I had talent, but that's not why she loved me. She loved me for me.
Popeye comes to mind.
The intercom rings a droll knell. I sigh and sit upright in my chair.
Nervous.
I feel the small hand come over mine, the soft tips of her fingers running over my dry knuckles. It feels like Heaven: Heaven on Earth. The only thing that could make this better was to not be in this airport.
This cold Airport.

I don't say a word to her. She says nothing. We walk to the gate; it's my last chance...all or nothing.
"Giveth and Taketh Away."
I remember what we had talked about, how we both had come to that agreement. Not the first time for me, but this sure as hell wasn't what I had wanted.
Friendship can be a bitch.
No...a woman who means more than the world to you.
I hug her, she gives me a peck on the cheek - I tell her to get going. I play it like any old guy: A real Bogart.
"Come-on, you have a plane to catch."
She lets go of me, her hands sliding from my back to my sides, pressing hard not to let go.
But she does.
I almost start to walk away. Dissappear. Maybe it would have been easier to do that. I know she couldn't do what she did next.
Sealing my fate. Letting me know my place.

Watching her get on that line, like watching her stand in front of a train.
Not quite sure what to do or where to go.
My hands are on the rails grabbing them tightly, wanting to rip them to pieces and claim my prize. To ride off into the sunset with her in my arms.
Dreams will be dreams.
I see a tear fall from her eye and caress her face. I wish I were there for her. I wanted to be there.
It should have been my hand there. Not the tear.
Never the tear.
The lightning moves fast, as does the heart. It can be fickle. Friendship can turn once more at the snap of a twig; the crack of lightning; the pull of the heart.

She's around the rail, pushing through the people wanting to get through. She pushes through and squares up with me. Stands me down.
She drops her backpack and runs. Full speed. Lightning incarnate. There's nothing left but tears flowing under the tungsten lights.
Her tears and mine.
Like being hit with a hammer, crushed under its weight. My heart gives and I embrace her, pulling her close to me. The airport was gone. People vanished and machines trickled away. Sounds fled off and smells disintegrated.
All that was left was her and I,
And the lightning in the sky.

[Daijaga]

[ScrumYummy]

For some reason, through the majority of this while I was reading it, I kept hearing this noir detective voice in my head as the narrator. !

I really like the measure, especially in the last two stanzas. It takes the reader along and portrays the emotion the narrator is feeling.

[Akanari]

Wonderful, I love seeing more freeform writing like this.

The pace was a bit like riding waves, slow crescendos and then rushes downward with action.
The only thing that could make this better while still keeping the style would be to go through and edit some of the diction of the piece, taking out some of the more sterile verbs and replacing them. It would really add to curtness.

And...it was a reminder for me. Except, the airports never went away, and I never turned back.

[Tobias]