Best Friends?

Reunion?

Despite my sadness, I look up from the park bench and watch a train speed into the tunnel. A passenger in the last compartment waves and I gasp. "It can't be, it just can't?".

I leap off of the park bench and chase the train. My brain laughs at me, knowing I could never catch up to it. The wind is pushing me backward, and my body starts to slow down. I stop midway, realizing that the train is to fast for me. My breath is heavy as I slowly walk towards the train station. My brain starts to wonder if it really was her. Memories of us come rushing back as I near the train station and I feel nostalgic. I enter the train station, only to see her standing across from me. Her bright blonde hair sticks out in a sea of brunettes. She rushes over to me and hugs me as we both suddenly burst out into tears.

"Where have you been Amara?" I question.

"Away," she replies.

Then I realize all the pain she put me through," Away?!" I shout.

"Do you realize all the pain you've caused me?" I screech but my voice cracks and I start crying even more than before.

"Let's talk about it Bailey," she replies, approaching total calmness.

By the time we leave the train station, it's pouring. I take my umbrella out of my bag and we both duck under it. By the time we get to the coffee shop, my shirt is soaked. We enter the coffee shop and the smell greets me. I grab a small booth by the window while Amara orders our coffee. While I wait for her to bring my drink, I watch a man holding his briefcase over his head as a makeshift umbrella. I let out a small laugh, and concentrate on my drenched top. Amara returns with two small coffees and sets them on the table.

"Now, what happened?" I question.

"I was kidnapped," she states.

I reply with a believable,"Really?".

Suddenly, we both let out a roar of laughter. "What really happened?" I ask.

"I just needed some time away, I guess," she says, softly.

"Everyone thought you were dead!" I exclaim.

"There are other alternatives!" I demand.

"The least you could do is tell somebody that you're okay!" I continue.

She stands up and screams, "This is why I didn't tell anyone!".

I look outside the booth, to see a million eyes staring at me. I pick up my bag and walk out of the coffee shop.

Hours later, I'm sitting on the porch of my old brick house. The wind sways the chimes, creating beautiful music to my ears. Right now, I am in peace. My moment of tranquility is disrupted by a low, sad voice.

"I'm sorry, B," she says. I lift my head and give her an abhor look.

"I don't believe you," I exclaim.

She changes her tone from a sad one to a serious one and stated "Well you have to because I'm on the US Government's Wanted List,"

"What!" I scream. My voice echoes through the air. I look back at Amara and her ears are covered by her hands.

"Can we go inside?" Amara politely asks.

I nod my head and I open the door. As I step into the house, the weight on my shoulders double.

"I was broke when I left, so I started to steal things," she said.

"What?" I exclaim, in shock.

"It was just pickpocketing," she says and pauses.

"For a while," she continues.

"Basically, I broke into the White House and stole a painting of John F. Kennedy," she says, feeling ashamed.

"And then I sold it and made a lot of money," she says.

"How much?" I ask, concerningly.

"1.1 million," she whispers slowly.

I start to breathe slower than usual. Suddenly, there's a bang on the door.I jump and get up to answer.I recall the series of events that just took place. I wrap my hand around the metal handle of my door, and clock it open. I see two men wearing FBI badges. In unison, they both state,"We're here for Amara Wilkins,".