Somewhere

By Argent

she could feel no remorse, no regrets.

For Milla



Her plane had arrived earlier than his. Time had been spent letting her worn body soak in hot water,
some added rose oil helping to wash away long hours of crushing in a plane chair.

He was stuck in traffic but she would wait for him. Wait for his embrace that made her feel safe.
Wait for his hungry kisses that made her feel alive. Wait for his words that made her feel loved.

They would spend a weekend together, a week - sometimes only a day, learning the lifes of the other,
laughing, making love - until reality roared it's ugly head again and they would return to their seperate life,
their responsibilities, the ones they -

Circumstances held them seperated, circumstances they understood and never mentioned. On monday
when his plane left for Metropolis she would be standing still awaiting the plane that would take her
to her apartment in New York, to the strong arms of her husband. Embraced by him she would think of the
other one, being let in by the butler, greeting his wife.

Still when she heard him entering the room she could feel no remorse, no regrets. She needed him
just as he needed her. Ever since the time in their youth in the little town they both had been exiled to they
had needed each other.

He brought her a glass of champange and she took a sip.
Let the glas dingle in her hand until she let it fall. She could hear the glas falling to pieces, see the liquid
spread over the tiles and then she was pulled out of the bath. His hands roaming her body, his mouth touching
hers and she lost her thoughts as he carried her into the bedroom.

Later when his arm was thrown over her lazy body and the other one absentmindly toyed with her golden bangs
she came to think of the mondays, tuesdays, wednesdays when they have said their goodbyes in the past.
Remebered the home comings and the awaiting of a letter with a single word that would mark
where they would meet again.

Somewhere.