Sunday, December 4, 2011

Through The Clouds, Part Two

They asked me questions, questions I knew most of the answers to, like an invigilated exam I didn't know I was supposed to take. They wanted to know what I'm doing with my life (humour not being their strongest suit), if I met someone special, if I'm happy. Yes. That much, I knew.

As requested, I completed (and passed) the first round of multiple choice questions. I then drifted on to the second and last section, the essay, the million dollar question, the question I knew I was never going to get right. Are you ever coming back?

I heard words coming out of my mouth. For all I know, they could have been short bouts of silence. Yes. Wrong. No. Wrong. Try, try again. Maybe?

Yes, they asked me questions. And now, looking out through the foggy window (goodbye beautiful sunshine), half asleep, already missing the three people who mean everything to me, now, as the plane lands in London, I find myself thinking about what I said, what I should have said, and what I would have said had I known the answer to the question.

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