Flash Pan Piazza - I

Forgetfulness "So you're saying you never got my message?"

He looked incredulous, but it wasn't an act. She could easily tell.

"I'm so sorry! I did slip it under your door that day. Didn't have the guts to see you. I thought you'd been too mad to call. I did leave my new number in it...", he said, with his head now in his hands.

And you also left for two years, she thought. Not a word spoken. She'd have been mad either way.

"Oh, what a mess, dear, what a mess. It wasn't working out - you know that. I had to leave soon. You know how the situation was like. The job came through, you must have guessed, didn't you?"

She didn't care. Her wet eyes scanned the Departures board. Her flight was ready to board. This had been the longest 30 minutes of the last two years. Running into him like this. Letting him know where he stood in the hall of shame. She rose.

"Your flight is ...? Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. I really am. I wish I had told you. Face-to-face. Like a man."

He thrust his hand at her. The good-bye handshake. Just a couple of years behind schedule. The shiny wedding ring on the other hand glistened again. She'd noticed it an instant after she'd first realised to whom the head before hers in the Departure Lounge belonged to.

"Bye", she said. She couldn't bear to touch him. A little wave, and she hurried away. Before going through, she took one last look. He looked crumpled.

The flight took off, mercifully on time. Despite wanting not to, she reached into her little case. Pulled out that old piece of paper. She considered it. She wasn't sure why she had lied. Made him suffer, though.