Gas

Joe Aguilar

It is not that I was looking forward to her flight, but the strain around the end of our visit bothered me more than I can say.

As we ate breakfast, on the morning she would return to where she lived, I felt a condition like pain over my pelvis.

The feeling worsened as the car brought us to the airport, our shoulders almost touching, and I had to massage my stomach as we entered the ticketing area, talking less and less.

What I mean is that to watch her pass through the gate into the crowd at last let out what had built up in me like a gas, and I slept better that night than in any of the nights I had just spent with her, who I want to see again more than I can say.