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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1921045-A-Dreams-Exodus
Rated: E · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1921045
1940s love scene showing pain in young love and the mind of innocence.
I felt the damp air and rain kiss my porcelain skin; I closed my eyes to take in the dark December night air. The moon was the only source of light, and even that was scarce as it hid behind misty skies. I felt his hand slide into mine with each of our fingers parallel and fitting together more perfectly than a puzzle. He pulled me in close, wrapping one arm around my nineteen-year-old back, and resting his forehead down on mine, whispering, "You are too beautiful for your own good. How did this happen, my love? How did I find you?" My heart stopped, my cheeks reddened, how did this happen? This doesn't happen to someone like me, someone with philophobia: the fear of falling in love.

I shook my head, tears rolling down my face, "I-I can't..." I tried to whisper back but choked and trailed off; luckily, for me, John always has the right words to say.

"Everything is okay," he hushed, "we'll be together again soon, don't you worry about it. My train is leaving though, so I have to get going." He slowly pulled away, but for me it seemed like he whipped away in an instant. I raised my hand towards him, but took it back with the realization that he'd have to leave eventually no matter how I'd try to stop him. The moonlight caught unto the diamonds and sapphires of my new engagement ring. I lowered my heard and fiddled with the ring, fighting back the squandering tears that would soon break through my trembling eyelids. Somehow a tear managed to squeeze its way out and trailed its way onto my cheek, which broke the barrier. I started to whimper, fighting every moment of it until I felt his strong, yet tender hand lift my face towards his. The sapphires in my ring were the palest of blue compared to the stunning bright ocean of John's gentle eyes. The tears gravitated down my face; what's the point of holding them in now, I thought, so I held back no longer and collapsed into his arms, tears staining his military uniform.

"I want to be with you forever," I panted. My sniveling eyes burrowed deep into his chest, my body shaking, and lungs collapsing. I felt his right arm move up and his hand brush slowly down my long, blonde hair. He tousled and twirled it around his index finger, then just held me tightly against him.

"I am always with you," he whispered, "We will be together forever, my dear, just you wait," He pulled back carefully and held my face in his hands. I sniffed as he dried the tears with the back of his hand up to the top of his finger, one last time before he left for war. A faint yell from a man on an intercom rang through the air; his voice buzzed through my spine colder than the chill of the night air. I knew what was coming next.

"I have to go now, the train is leaving, my sweet Evelynn," John quietly whispered just before kissing my hand and forehead for the last time in this crazy year of 1941, "I'll be back before you know it!" I kissed his cheek and he kissed my rosy lips as our hands slid apart. He left with the winter night wind and I watched him fade away; so strong and noble. I grabbed the handkerchief from my black dress pocket, drying my nose and cheeks. I started to pull it towards my eyes when I saw John's initials on it. I clutched it to my chest and looked up to see if he was gone. My heart has never felt so full but empty; my body so frail and weak. The Great Depression was nothing compared to this.

The dawn fell still and the rain had ceased; yet, I still find myself standing here waiting. Not sure of what I'm waiting for, but my legs can't seem to move. If it weren't for my fair skin and hair, I would be mistaken for just another stationary object in this dark avenue. My dress and stockings as black as the night and emptiness in my heart covered me from head to toe. I looked around me at what else, and who else, might be here too. Nothing. No one. Nothing but a few trashcans, streetlights, benches, and fluttering pieces of old newspapers.

I finally managed to lift up one leg and drop it back down on the cold cement when I felt something under me stuck to the bottom of my shiny black boot. I looked down to find it was the heading of some hair product article from the day before: "This product is the best in California! Hurry now and buy this product before it's too late! The sale ends today, December 11!" How can an article be so cheery when my heart is breaking so deeply?

I finally heard the whistle of the train disappearing into the deep black abyss of hopes, dreams, and nightmares. I hope he'll be alright. Missing someone is part of loving them; you don't know how much you really love them until they're away. I just hope he comes back.

© Copyright 2013 Elise Pehrson (elisepehrson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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