She loves him still.
Especially in late September when fog hangs thick and low. When she allows herself to indulge in all the memories of what was supposed to be; when she closes her eyes long enough, he is right there with her.
She can’t remember how long ago she lost him, but when she spotted him this evening, everything that ever felt unfinished in her life rose up to face her. He was right there in front of her, slouched over his coffee in the same weighty posture he had before he grew older.
She stood there unmoving, watching him through the coffee shop window. She studied his furrowed brow and the way his lips paused to blow and cool his coffee. People were chattering all around him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was so far away. Life had hardened his once boyish face, but his eyes were exactly the same.
He looked up as though he was willed to, and caught her staring at him.
Blood rushed up her chest, down her arms and through her fingertips. She lost all ability to breathe and the only thing she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.
Yes, she loves him still.