Walking in the once familiar door, I headed to the back of the bookstore and turned left. There they were. Two chipped leather settees, adjacent from each other, still highlighted by that beautiful, fake-stained-glass lamp. The lamp created a radiant ambiance; the smell of tabloid antiquities hung in the air.
I sat. It had be seven years since I was last here. Alice and I. The day before I was to graduate.
“You know I have to accept the position. That’s what I have been in school for the last six years.”
“I know. I want you to.”
“Come with me. You can complete your degree there.”
“I don’t speak the language. Besides, your family will never accept me.”
“I don’t care. I love you.”
“I love you.”
With that, I kissed her. I held her. The smell of her hair I still remember. And I left.
Having written the university and gotten the last address on file, I sent a card telling her I was coming back to give the alumni address. I just had to hear from her. I had received a postcard: 2:00 pm. Same place.
It was 1:37 …. I sat … and remembered… and waited.
Written for Sunday Photo Fictioner (200 words): Requirements: Approximately 200 words and the use of the photo prompt.