A Thousand Miles

Going home can be even harder when the one person you want to see isn't there.

I tried to keep my focus on my feet as I pushed through the throng of people trying to get on the train. That's the problem with looking white in Asia. People either just stare at you like you're some kind of freak or they assume that you don't know anything as you stumble your way through life there.

Once I finally managed to get off there was no time for peace. The whole crowd moved towards the stairs. One thing that I wasn't going to miss was the crowds that just swept you wherever they were going.

Outside as last, I breathed a sigh of relief. There were a lot less people out here, or they were diffused more effectively. Being jammed in a crowd had always aggravated my claustrophobia. But my relief was short lived as a coughing fit erupted.

Fishing through my purse in a daze, I managed to find my inhaler. Breathing in two puffs, I managed to suppress the coughing. Taking shallow breaths in order to try to avoid another attack, I tried to calm myself down.

It was only in Asia that the attacks plagued me day after day. Anywhere else I could go for weeks, possibly even months without an attack. But here, here I was stuck on meds with the possibility of hospitalization. It was a good thing that I was leaving soon.

But thinking of leaving brought up memories. Memories that I didn't want to face. Memories of him.

True, he was gone. He had left before I had. But we were both going back.

I missed him, terribly. Now we were on the same continent which only made it harder. But it was three thousand miles, at least. I couldn't call him. That was against the rules. I could only send a letter once a week.

I sent a letter the same day that I received one. Waiting a whole week for a reply was torture. Especially in this age of instant gratification and communication.

I kept a picture of him in my purse at all times. It wasn't hard as he usually sent at least one in his weekly letters. Sometimes they made me laugh. Sometimes they made me cry. Sometimes I couldn't look at them for days because I was filled with emotions that threatened to overrun me.

His stories were sometimes amusing. Like the time he tried to iron his pants and wound up burning them. Luckily, he never made that mistake again. That made me laugh, mostly because I hadn't burnt anything with an iron since I was seven.

I wanted more than anything to see him, to talk to him face to face. It didn't seem fair.

“Zanthe, watch were you're going,” my mother said as I walked into the door again.

My mind had been shaken up enough that day, but she wouldn't know that. I couldn't forget him. I didn't want to.

Enclosing myself in the solitude of my room to think, I knew that I would walk a thousand miles, and more, if I could just see him sooner than expected.

Reviews

[Mars Samuel]

I like how this one falls away from what everyone else is writing for the contest. (Sorry if that's of no interest to you) It is sad, but there's some touch of hope to it that's tangible and uplifting (They're still together, even if only by a paper bond). It's fantastically realistic and it's something I can follow and imagine easily.
Past cool!

[Aislinn]

Thank you. I try to be different so it's wonderful to hear that someone noticed that. And thank you for the comment that it is realistic. You are awesome.

[Mars Samuel]

Not A problem, I really enjoyed it!

This was an intriguing read! I loved how deeply you formed the connection between she and he within so few words. I also liked that though it was a love story, it had a clear, defining conflict, even to the end. It was very well written, and leaves me wondering if she ever gets to see him again, more of what their letters contain, and how their relationship came to be. I don't usually care for ambiguity, but this story made it work very well. Great job!