Friday Fiction: Running
Prompt: Write a brief bit of fiction involving running.
For OneMinuteWriter
The water was making gurgling sounds as it ran down the drain, but Beth didn't really notice. She was frozen, unfocused. She was watching him leave, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder, that lopsided smile on his lips. She was tasting the cinnamon of his gum as she kissed him farewell, pulled him back, kissed him again just before he faded down the terminal to his plane.
And then there was the sudden panic. A deep tightness in her chest, and at some point she was convinced that she could feel the door of the plane seal shut. She saw his plane burning, falling through the sky, sharp and vivid as a premonition.
She had wanted to chase through the terminal after him, slamming past security. To find him surprised at her appearance, startled, then understanding as he eased into her arms, so grateful that she had has the will to pull him back from the edge of this great abyss.
But she had quashed the idea, pushed it down. He would laugh at her, perhaps be angry. He always said that she fed too much into her fear. She let fear come alive and swallow her whole, he said, let it creep inside and rule her roost. Or something like that. So she had turned and walked slowly out of the terminal.
Right now he was over Nevada, or Utah, or one of those other dim interior states. Right now carried aloft with such a fragile mechanics, so heavy over the great expanse of air. Right now, already, he could be falling.
Coming home, Beth had meant to console herself with mundane tasks -- writing, laundry, sweeping, dishes. She got as far as turning on the water in the sink, then froze. The fear rose up again, and brought with it despair. She had to stand still, so still. If she moved they would see her, and then they would devour her, her and him both. She knew believing in the thing she feared would make it true. So she slowed her breathing, let her mind empty, and kept quiet and still.
The water was running down the drain, splattering the sides of the sink as it fell, and all she could do was be still. Be still and wait.
For OneMinuteWriter
The water was making gurgling sounds as it ran down the drain, but Beth didn't really notice. She was frozen, unfocused. She was watching him leave, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder, that lopsided smile on his lips. She was tasting the cinnamon of his gum as she kissed him farewell, pulled him back, kissed him again just before he faded down the terminal to his plane.
And then there was the sudden panic. A deep tightness in her chest, and at some point she was convinced that she could feel the door of the plane seal shut. She saw his plane burning, falling through the sky, sharp and vivid as a premonition.
She had wanted to chase through the terminal after him, slamming past security. To find him surprised at her appearance, startled, then understanding as he eased into her arms, so grateful that she had has the will to pull him back from the edge of this great abyss.
But she had quashed the idea, pushed it down. He would laugh at her, perhaps be angry. He always said that she fed too much into her fear. She let fear come alive and swallow her whole, he said, let it creep inside and rule her roost. Or something like that. So she had turned and walked slowly out of the terminal.
Right now he was over Nevada, or Utah, or one of those other dim interior states. Right now carried aloft with such a fragile mechanics, so heavy over the great expanse of air. Right now, already, he could be falling.
Coming home, Beth had meant to console herself with mundane tasks -- writing, laundry, sweeping, dishes. She got as far as turning on the water in the sink, then froze. The fear rose up again, and brought with it despair. She had to stand still, so still. If she moved they would see her, and then they would devour her, her and him both. She knew believing in the thing she feared would make it true. So she slowed her breathing, let her mind empty, and kept quiet and still.
The water was running down the drain, splattering the sides of the sink as it fell, and all she could do was be still. Be still and wait.