A heat haze surrounded the distinctive silver plane, and made it merely a blur disappearing to the horizon. And I could have screamed at it to come back, but it wouldn't have.

It was the plane that was carrying her out my life. Don't ask me how I knew that, but the sense of doom had to come from somewhere.

I was breathing so hard I had to double over. I had run all the way there, in the vain hope I might have been in time to stop her leaving.

If she thought I didn't know there was no job in LA, then she was wrong. She wasn't leaving because prospects were better for her elsewhere, because that was simply not true. She was a bright and ambitious woman, at the top of her game and going places and her prospects were better nowhere than in Chicago.

She was running away. I couldn't pretend she hadn't hurt me, but some people are worth the pain. She didn't think she was. But she was wrong, and I had to tell her that. I had to tell her that no matter what she'd done I loved her.

But she clearly didn't want to hear that. She didn't want to be forgiven.