You pull up to the terminal. Small words are exchanged, but no looks or embrace. You stop the car and let her out, not accompanying her to the gate. The door shuts and you can't bear to glimpse your own reflection in the rearview as you watch her back, walking away. Still sexy after all these years...walking away.
And it wasn't so long ago that you would have done anything in the world to keep that back from leaving. You watch intently as she fades into the crowd.
Waiting.
Hoping.
She doesn't turn around.
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