She sat waiting in her normal spot overlooking the city. He said he'd return to her one day, and though it hadn't happened yet, she wouldn't give up hope. He'd always been a man of his word, and a measly thing like death wouldn't change that.
When the accident claimed his life, ripped him from her, she thought she'd find a way to join him in the afterlife. But one thing he said before passing for good gave her hope. "Wait for me." She knew what he meant; where he meant. And so she waited every day for the past three years. So far nothing, but that would change. He'd be back; she'd see him again.
The grass waved as if in a huge wind storm, but she didn't feel so much as a gust on her face, on her skin. It stopped, and she shook her head. She'd imagined it. It had only happened for a second, a micro-second. The dust kicked up as if someone passed nearby, but,as always, she sat alone, no one in sight unless you counted the people down the hill, a mile or more away. The bench creaked, but she hadn't shifted. She held her breath. Had the day finally come? Had he returned to her at long last?
"Roger?" The only answer was a soft, cold peck on her cheek.
Eric J. Krause pens stories from Orange County, California, just minutes away from Disneyland. He has over two dozen short stories published in magazines such as The Absent Willow Review, Trail of Indiscretion, Allegory, and Nocturnal Ooze, just to name a few.