The Cliché

He opened his eyes. He was waiting for her at the train station. It was late. Almost midnight. The train would be leaving soon. And they'd go away. Far away from the family feuds and the intimidation and the pain and the...But why hadn't she come yet? She had to. She had promised. The light turned green. A whistle sounded. The train set off in motion with a gentle shove. One last searching look. He rubbed away the tears. And stepped on to the train...

He opened his eyes. His head felt heavy. And a couple of sizes too big. Something cold was pressed against his hand. A .45 automatic. Used quite recently. He could smell it in the air. He tried to get his eyes to focus. And regretted it immediately. She lay on the carpet in a pool of blood. He stumbled over and hugged her. Then carried her lifeless body and placed it on the bed. He knew he would be the prime suspect. His fingerprints were all over the place. Well, so be it. He rubbed away the tears and reloaded the gun. They would pay for this...

He opened his eyes. Someone was calling his name. He walked over and got his espresso. 3 more hours of studying. And then 2 more in the examination hall. He wondered how many more espressos he'll need. He tried to concentrate on the squiggles which according to the author were a data plot. Someone who smelled nice squeezed past him, stumbled and scalded his neck with her latte. He screamed. She panicked. Everyone stared. She got some napkins. She said she was sorry. He said it was alright. He made a quick trip to the restroom. He sat down. He saw she had the same textbook...

He opened his eyes. The hospital tiles stared back at him. Cold, unfriendly and spotlessly clean. She'd been in surgery for almost three hours now. His brain was numb from worrying. And praying. All he wanted was for someone to come out and tell him that she was going to be okay. It had been a drunk driver. One who hadn't noticed or hadn't cared for the red light. Why? Why her? Why today? Why hadn't he picked her up from work like everyday? He rubbed away the tears and looked up. The nurse was walking towards him. Please let her be okay, just please let her be okay...

"What are you doing? And why are these crumpled papers on the floor?"

"Well, what does it look like I'm doing? I am trying to write a short story. But everything I've tried so far just sounds so clichéd."

Coffee...

He was sitting on the back porch steps. She walked up to him.

"I'm leaving now."

"Please. Don't."
"Did you get everything?"

"Yes. Except for the brown stroller."
"And the memories."

"I'll help you with it."
"I always said it was too big for you."

"Thanks."
"Aren't you gonna say anything to stop me?"

[PAUSE]

"Uhhh...It's going to be a long drive. Do you want a cup of coffee before you...?"
"One last time. For old times sake?"

"Well, I should get going actually, but I guess I could use one."
"The coffee-pot's already on. And he is using coasters. I guess two years of nagging does have effect after all."

"Why are you smiling?"
"I've missed that smile so much. But why am I even asking? I know she's not gonna say anything."

"Nothing...it's nothing."
"For chrissakes, stop smiling. But he does look cute when he's confused."

"I'll...I'll go get the coffee."
"In her favourite mug. I wonder why she didn't pack it up with the rest of her stuff. Good thing I didn't smash it to pieces like I wanted to the other day."

[PAUSE]

"That was quick. Thanks."
"Mmmm...not too frothy, not too sweet, hint of cinnamon. Perfect. If only he had done things like these more often. I can't remember the last time..."

"I hope it's okay."
"Never mind. I can tell you like it."

[PAUSE]

"What are you thinking?"
"You'd better be thinking of something to say to stop me."

"About how simple things used to be. How did we get here? What happened?"
"I guess life happened."

"Hmm."
"What is he getting at?"

"We never went to Paris like we always said we would."
"The City of Love."

"I guess we just got busy with our careers."
"Seriously, if he's just gonna go off into one of his reminiscense daydreams, I'd better leave now."

"Well...so, you know...I was just thinking that...I'm off work for two weeks...and you're already packed...so if you want...we could..."
"O my God, she's giving me that dazed look. Oh wait, now she looks like she's about to cry."

"You are the most crazy...impulsive...deviant...oddball I've ever known, you know that, you silly idiot?"
"Thank you God, thank you..."

[PAUSE] [SOBS] [TEARS] [HUGS]

"So what do we do with the divorce papers?"

"Well, you always said we didn't use the fireplace more often."

"Oh and you do remember that we always said that we'd fly to Paris first class, right?"

"I can't say I do. We still have to pay the lawyers you know."

"No worries. I'm not moving out so you don't have to pay for that."

"You are such a spendthrift."

"And you are such a cheapskate."