I haven't been doing enough writing lately. So, for fun, here's a fictional story.
The Rendezvous
by KK Sierra
She stepped off the plane onto the jetway; the oppressive
humidity making her gasp for breath. She glanced down at her sweaty, rumpled clothes,
and made her way up the boarding ramp to the closest restroom. The air conditioned terminal bringing her
momentary relief.
Secured behind a stall door she removed the plastic cover
from the mint green dress with its narrow, braided straps and cluster of flowers at the
right side of the waist. Stripped down to her panties, she balanced on her flip flops to keep her feet from the dirty floor as she refreshed her
deodorant and swiped some lotion on her legs and arms. The light scent of mango
danced around her.
Excitement that had been building during the flight
threatened to bubble over and she could not help but smile. It had been weeks
and she missed her love. She was looking forward to the look of affection in his
eyes and hoped he appreciated the effort she put forth to look special. It had
been a long day, followed by a long drive and an equally long flight. The
clothing she wore was far from her normal attire.
Slipping into her beige peep-toed heels, she smoothed the
front of the airy dress. It swirled around her, the skirt ending just above her
knees. Quickly she repacked her things, momentarily wondering why she hadn’t
gotten the usual, “you land yet?” text message. The better to surprise him, she
surmised.
A minimalist, she ran through her hair quickly with a brush
and freshened her breath. No need for makeup. She loved her bright red lipstick
but only when she didn’t plan on kissing anyone, and tonight, she definitely
planned on kissing someone. Anticipation made her shiver. With a final,
satisfied glance in the mirror, she grabbed her bag and headed out.
Foot traffic in the terminal had diminished quickly, as
would be expected for a late evening flight. She nodded to the now familiar, aging security
guard as she passed TSA’s point of no return into the unsecured part of the
airport. He smiled in return and gave her a thumbs up. She was confident in her pretty, flirty dress and high heels.
The hall, however, was quite empty. No tall, smiling man. No
sweeping embrace. No phone call. No text message. Her walk slowed, her gait
faltered, her posture drooped, the confidence gone. Stunned, she stands in the
corridor, lost.
A text sent, “I’m here.”
No response is received.
Forgotten.
Alone.
She sits.
The pretty dress is wrinkled.
Her face tear streaked.
And she sits.
