Waiting

Dainty hands clutched a photograph tightly. Frozen images were the only way she could see his face again- still, un-living two dimensional pieces of paper. But even they couldn't capture his essence. It was only the ghost of him in the pictures- never smiling.

A twelve year and a half year old sat perfectly still on the seat, staring, watching, waiting. The events played in head on as endless loop, as if they had just happened the day before and not a few months ago. The very last time she had saw him alive…

If she knew she was never going to see him again, what would she have said? Thank you? Sorry?

She remembered his confident gaze, almost of the borderline of arrogance and cocky. His startling blue eyes that always seemed to dared anyone to challenge him when he came up with a plan. His handsome features, his voice.

She had memorized his voice pattern a while back. How long ago it seemed… His sense of humor, senile dementia. They were meant for each other. Two juvenile geniuses made to complement and complete the other.

The wind toyed with the preteen's hair, blowing it gently this way and that. "Come back," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

He had saved her. And now he was gone… Lost in time and space. And she may never see him again. What if he was… dead? No, it couldn't. He would come back, she knew it. He would have calculated everything perfectly, everything would work out fine. It had to.

She would wait for him. Even if it took forever.

Even until she passed on.

Even if she couldn't anymore.

She would wait.

Forever.

End