Saturday, November 3, 2018

A Disappearance (Day 654)


Not knowing which way was up, she turned left and buzzed down the sapphire highway in a neon green Beetle. The air was cool. Not quite summer yet, but who could forget that funny little twist in the wind like a sliver of lemon peel alongside a demitasse of snappy, black espresso? This may sound funny, but she wished fervently for the rains and fog of February as she drove, something to stave off the yearning to leave, to go...somewhere. Life’s just not fair. She thought, for the millionth time, about a boy she knew in school, who just up-and-disappeared. Without a word. Day after day, his blue eyes warmed the side of her neck and, maybe once or twice, his jacket warmed her shoulders. Then, one Tuesday morning, his chair had been empty. He wasn’t there the next day, or the next, and no one seemed to care enough to find out where he went. After a while, the gossip died down, and life went on as usual. The only evidence he’d existed at all: a vague sense of coolness that lay gently against her right cheek, and the sleek leather jacket she took to wearing when the temperature dipped at night.


(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Max Andrey/Pexels