Come home, we miss you.
A girl, sitting on a bench at the hectic train station, sighs. A line, from a short message she received last night, is displaying once again on her mind, the line that was sent by someone one hundred miles away. She closes her eyes as her memory begins to distract.
"How can I deny you?" she whispers.
The train station is crowded. People come, people chat, people make noise and people go. The train she is waiting for comes. She takes a deep breath then stands.
"What it is in a distance?" she questions herself.
Another journey begins. Another four hour on the wheels. It is never about the destination. Being on the wheels is what she loves the most, always.
"You come," a man welcomes her.
"Yes, I do."
"You're lovely, as always."
She smiles, "Thank you. You look great too."
He laughs. Words never come easily. Feeling is just too precious to be spoken, not to be faked for it is not a platitude, never it be. An hour passes. Another silent sixty minutes to be broken.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
She smiles as if she wants to say, you know I can't stay.
"Please stay," he begs.
"This is not my home, not anymore," unspoken, just another smile she gives to him.
"I love you, you know I do," he says.
He stares at her, straight to her eyes. Another smile before she turns her face. Looking at the nothingness, just to keep her heart from falling is what she does.
"Forgive me Father but I can't stay. I just wanted to kiss your hands, the hands that gently rubbed my hair whenever I wanted to sleep. What it is in a distance? Nothing. I see you, I feel you, I love you," she whispers.
[caption id="attachment_78958" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I just wanna kiss your hands (getty images taken from google)"][/caption]
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