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Back home…



When he spotted the red door, his heart skipped a beat.

He had been invited, but nonetheless, he hesitated on knocking on the crimson wood. He wasn’t softhearted in general, but obviously, she had found his weak spot because he felt febrile, imagining that she was on the other side of the wall.

They had met years ago, in the most random way. He was sitting in his favorite café, sipping on a delicious dark brew, and the place was crowded, as usual. She had walked to his table, and asked if she could take the seat across from him. He hadn’t looked up, when she inquired, and had just nodded, not minding company since he always went to the café alone.

And then destiny had hit him.

Unlike the many previous coffee companions he had had in the past, she had a little something he couldn’t describe. Some kind of natural grace, an unusual beauty that transcended her weird looks and tousled hair. He had engaged a conversation, making smalltak until she had opened up to him, like a blooming flower.

He considered walking away, but he just couldn’t leave without her. Not knowing that they were so close.

She was bubbly, even if she held a lot of darkness inside her. He had loved to hear her giggles, while recalling her past mishaps. She was half-broken, and he wanted to half fix her. The rest of the path, she’d have to do by herself, but he wasn’t worried.

She was a warrior.

He had wittedly invited her to meet him again in this café. And she had, although she didn’t live downtown. They had talked…. Many times, longer and longer with each encounter.

And then… Nothing. Not a word, not a sign.

Staring at the door, he now understood how deep an effect she had had on him. He felt her, a couple of meters away, and it killed him. If he had ever been in love in his life, that was it.

He had waited, patiently, though his heart told him to look for her. It was easy to trace someone up, these days, afterall. But he hadn’t. He prefered to wait, ol’ style. She had left him hoping. Only a couple of months after giving him the silence treatment, the message had popped on his cellular phone’s screen.

Her home adress.

And there he stood, full with expectations. He didn’t want to walk back home alone tonight. He just hoped to breath as one with her again. And maybe more…

He raised his fist and finally knocked.

He just didn’t want to go back home alone. He would stay here or bring her back home.


#NovemberNotes2019 – Until Then by Sully Erna 


In response to November Notes Writing Challenge by  Sarah Doughty of Heartstring 




2 thoughts on “Back home…

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