Paris, Pastels & Forgiveness

a short story (maybe long if I have the time) based on a dream I recently had.

I take deep breaths. One by one. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this is the mantra howling inside my head as I look at the airport. I was finally leaving everything behind, leaving it all for Paris, a place in which I longed to see once again after a trip a few years ago. I finished school and so I decided, as a gift to myself, I would move to France, start over, begin a humble little life as a Parisian. It all seemed so simple, just dropping everything I've loved and known for a place I was yet to call home. But you see, I am tired of this false home, this home in which I felt alien. 

What was hard for me, was finally saying "f**k you" to all my heartaches and miseries. I decided when planning out this move that I wouldn't take my past with me, I wouldn't especially take him with me. I was done with everything and everyone; none more than him, the one who destroyed my heart- moreso than my first love, which says a lot. 

I came alone-- my family said their teary goodbyes at the house. They understood the least why I was going, but I reassured them I would always call, write, Skype, whatever modes of communication possible. My family wasn't who I was running from nor are my friends, they have all been so kind and generous and loving. No, it isn't them. It is him. It is them, my wounds. I have had enough of having to be near him, to have the haunting reminder of what could've been. 

One last breath. I enter the airport. I am closer and closer to a new life. I cannot wait to have Paris breath herself into me, resurrecting me. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"FLIGHT 1098 to PARIS, YOU CAN BOARD AT GATES A, B, and C..." 

There it is. 

Here I go. 

I sip the cheap wine from the cheap airport restaurant, gather my bags and head straight for the gates, entering the humid shaft and away from the life I used to know. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

105A 

105 A 

105 A 

I look desperately around, shoving through the claustrophobic airplane isles making way to my, hopefully window, seat.

I finally found it, and I see two people already in their seats; one on the outside and one in the middle. I pay no mind to them and I squeeze myself to my quaint window seat. To my delight, the sky is drenched in beautiful pastel blues, pinks and oranges-- such a beautiful sight, a metaphor for bittersweet endings and beautiful beginnings. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plane has ascended and I have desperately tried to fall asleep, but I cannot. I look over at the people I am sitting next to; vague shadows in the poorly lighted plane-- plus the world outside is now veiled in black ink with the occasional stroke of stars. 

I close my eyes, in vain and for a moment I see his face and he is calling my name, in a plea, in a whisper, and in a tone of surprise?

"Sera??" 

I open my eyes, I turn on the little light and looked over at the figure next to me; neither words or sounds came from me. I couldn't believe it. After five years....no.....it cannot be... I must be dreaming. I need more wine.... I need my Xanax.........I need.... 

"John?" 

 

Author's Note

also on my wattpad; a work in progress, not sure how far I'll go-- I have a lot of unfinished projects :/