This is obvs a repost of the story I put up a few weeks ago; there was something that was missing, I thought and I managed to fit it in tidily with one paragraph; now it feels right to me. Thanks to Lauren, as always.
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A breeze rustles its way through the trees, but it's not cool. Exactly the opposite, it carries with it the ocean, the salt and the sand, and the humidity settles over her body like a thick sheet.
It's uncomfortable and unnerving, but she plugs on, weaving in and out of tourists and not-so-tourists towards the harbor.
The sun is setting and the natives are slinking away from their offices, finding their way back to the suburbs, taking lingering glances at the city that they love so much. And Sara slips right back in, meanders her way into the heart of Boston, returns as an old friend and greets it with warmth.
There's a spice to the air, a subtle sort of spark that invades her lungs and leaves a strange taste in her mouth. It's a flavor she's tasted before and it makes Sara slightly uneasy. She pauses on the line between the old, weathered sidewalk and the fresh, white stone beneath her, looking up.
Spread out beyond her there used to be a jungle of green steel (she remembers trying to navigate through it in a beat up Chevy) that is gone now. When she left, the city redefined itself. It's glittering, now, really, making the history seem a little more appealing, making the waterfront… alive. It's like the city went on without her and for a fleeting moment, Sara feels completely abandoned.
Something about the way the metropolis smells-fresh ocean and dust-and the way it feels-cobblestone and brick, old-has made this her favorite place to be. After a quick glance at her watch, Sara rounds the corner and strolls through the North End and out across Atlantic Avenue, thin soles of her flip-flops thwacking nosily on the tightly-packed brick.
There are no faces on the people that she passes but that's fine, because there is only one person she cares to see; she's a few minutes early and so she slows her pace and settles herself on the dockside, legs dangling over the edge, low tide. There are things she remembers, things about him, and then not.
Music from the anchored party boat drifts over to her and for a moment she feels the urge to cry, because she's found and lost and lost and found so much over the years, to be back here again…
Hands on her shoulders and she stands, noting the familiar weight and warmth. Sara closes her eyes as she turns and doesn't bother to open them when his arms slide around her middle and hold tight. "I missed you," is all he says.
It's all she wants to hear.
Their reunion is on Rowes Wharf, overlooking a body of water that has held Boston's secrets for years and Sara idly wonders, as she breathes in the scent of his skin, if it's big enough to hold all of hers.