About the River and Cliché | Zarry

Epilogue

Harry wakes up in his seat at 5:17 pm, ten minutes before the plane arrives in San Francisco. The sunlight on his right side is dazzling. He pouts reluctantly when the flight attendant stops him from pulling down the window shade. He shelters his eyes under his palm, exhaling slightly as he spots the bay under his feet. In a few minutes he's going to turn on his phone and receive hundreds of missed calls from his manager and colleagues. He lets out a deep sigh again. Maybe he should quit his job, and then open a new bakery along the Filbert Street, watching cars speed down the steep hill in front of the windows. The bakery would be named after his petty hometown - he can't remember the name right now but someday he will. And then he's gonna make a pot of lemongrass tea in the afternoon so he can watch Zayn drink it. Harry knows it is going to piss him off. He's dying to see Zayn pissed off, because most of time it is Harry's job to be the upset one between them. It is a childish plan and Harry misses being childish so much.

So he wonders, well, maybe that's what it is.

At first he had made up a lot of glorious excuses in his mind, mainly to convince himself. This kind of self-cheating behavior has become a custom. Time will rationalize his suspicion, and then create courage out of nowhere. But it isn't too bad, because Harry is pretentious and that's where he starts to be real. He might as well put this five-minute fantasy on the plane into action. He really wants to make some lemongrass tea for Zayn right now.

The captain is broadcasting, buzzing in his ears with strong Southern accent. Harry closes his eyes for the last time, concealing his giggles from imagining himself packing his stuff when he's back to the office. He will receive so many calls, but he will only pick up one of them. That's the first and the last thing he's going to do. He's not planning to explain the story, because nobody is going to ask anyway.

And if someone does ask, he'll say, it's all about the river and cliché.

Fin.