Lucas
I couldn't stop touching her as she lied with her head on my bare chest. I ran my hand from the top of her head to the ends of her long strands of hair. When they finally slipped from my fingers, I started all over again. Her hand lightly swept across my chest in slow circles. Each pass must have watered my heart because it grew and grew within my chest.
"I read some of the letters." I twirled a strand of her hair around my fingers. Her beautiful eyes looked up to mine and she rested her chin on her hand, which paused on my chest.
"From your grandparents?" Her voice was so soft as it drifted from her lips. I couldn't help but smile. I nodded my head. "What did they say?"
"A bunch of really mushy stuff that I couldn't imagine my grandpa ever saying," I chuckled. "He was this really proud military man. Hearing that he used to spell her name over and over at night to help him fall asleep was a little surprising."
"That's so romantic," her face lit up with excitement. "I bet your grandma loved that."
I felt my face fall, "The letters are a little hard to read."
"Why?"
"It's not like how it is now with email. There were big spaces of time between each letter and its response. My grandpa would mail one in the middle of June, but not get the response from my grandma until July." I shook my head. "It must have been really hard not being able to just pick up the phone. Back then everything was expensive and difficult."
She sighed, "Did they argue in the letters?"
"Not really. They just spent a lot of time trying to tell each other everything was ok and that they were still in love. It's kind of heart breaking. But then there are these moments where they spill all their emotions onto the paper and you can feel it in your heart how much they loved each other and how hard it must have been to be separated." As soon as the words had left my mouth, I knew what I'd just done. I'd reminded us both that our time was ticking. We would soon be apart too.
9:14PM. The clock on the night stand confirmed my fears as it's bright red lettering kept track of time whether we wanted to or not. I watched her eyes lift to read it. "I hate that," she said softly. I knew she was talking about the clock.
"I know. There's nothing we can do about it and I don't want to spend any of our time here worrying over something we can't do a damn thing about. Let's get dressed and go grab some dinner." I still needed to carry in our luggage from the car. I got dressed quickly and grabbed our bags. As soon as I was back in the room, I changed again. I didn't want to wear anything that would remind her I was leaving. Instead, I chose a pair of jeans, a Henley, and a big jacket.
I watched as she wrapped a scarf around her neck. As much as I was trying to be strong for her, I couldn't stop thinking about how it was going to hurt me to watch her get back on a plane. I knew my heart would surely break with the weight of it. She was buttoning her wool jacket, her cheeks slightly flushed with color from the warm room or what we'd just been doing in it. I moved behind her and buried my face in her neck at her shoulder. My arms cinched tightly around her waist and she immediately leaned her weight back against me. I didn't dare look up into the mirror and see her face. I knew that sadness would be there. Instead I looked up and saw the reflection of the clock, bright, bold, and accurate. Digging the knife deeper into my heart each minute that ticked by.
10:07PM.