The Flying Love

The Flying Love

It was a moment of realization when he started to play Amélie in the airport. There was a beautiful piano in the waiting room, free to play. I was sleeping on his knees; he whispered into my ears, ‘I wanna play some piano before we board.’ 

‘I will accompany you.’ I said.

He didn’t know that Amélie is my favorite song. He just started to move his hands, his beautiful fingers on the piano keys. I still remember what his hands looked like. He had long fingers. And a gentle touch. Somtimes putting his hands on mine, telling me how small my hands were, telling this with a nice smile. 

He played Amélie  and tears touched my cheeks. I knew it was the end. I knew that it was over. It was a moment of realization. It was the best ending I could ever imagine. I felt that time has stopped. All the clocks stopped ticking, and people were looking at us, walking by like we were in another era, another dimension. 

When he stopped playing, he looked at me. My eyes were full of tears.

‘Oh my God, your eyes!’ He said.

And there was no need for any words, he just wrapped his arms around me and we both cried. We both knew that it was over. It was a beautiful moment of realization. 

Am I gonna tell him about this?

I don’t think so. Maybe he never knows. Or perhaps he already knew. He knew how I felt. 

There is so much pain in accepting things the way they are. So much pain when I heard him saying:

I see some glimpse, but it’s not enough to sacrifice.

I miss him. I miss his skin, his eyes, his hands, and his smile. It’s a pity that we were not emotionally on the same page. There were many reasons to stop. But we only needed one to continue. The one that we never got.

Have I made a mistake?

Well, how could I know?

How can I know what the sunset looks like on a lovely evening on a beach if I’m so scared of putting my feet on the sands?

You have to pay the price to understand. And that was the price I paid.

On our last goodbye, we were at the airport. I just found out that I lost my necklace that I got as a souvenir from our trip. He looked in his pocket and gave me his souvenir.

‘You should keep this.’ He said.

I took it but told him I would give it back the next time we met. Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe.

We agreed on meeting each other next year. But will we?

It all came naturally at that moment, maybe because it made it easier for us to leave. 

He left. He passed the gate, and we started walking in two different directions, two different universes. He looked back, and I was still there. 

And that was the end.

Now it’s hard to listen to Amélie without thinking about him.

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