Her name was…

A time to say goodbye.

I confess I didn’t want to meet her. I had to. It was business. So I told myself. Strictly business. I kept telling myself. Then I saw her. Minutes past. I was staring. She didn’t mind.

She wasn’t beautiful. Not in the conventional way anyway. There was a serenity about her which was unerving. I knew her history. Or so I thought. People said she was dangerous. You watch your back. Don’t let her get too close. It was good advice. They didn’t know her though. She wasn’t dangerous. Well, most of the time.

Its been a month since we met. I look around. We are on a hill. I know I am going to miss her. It is the same feeling you get when you are on a beach staring at the sea. The sun is coming down on us. I have to say good bye. I don’t want to say goodbye. We shared. I seen her shades. I know what makes her cry and sometimes when I try really hard I swear I seen her smile.

I tell her I am going to miss her. She stares back without a word. I don’t know what she’s thinking. It doesn’t matter. She knows I have come to love her. Its getting dark now. I tell her I have to go now. No answer. I turn my back on her. I walk down the hill. I try not to look back.

My heart cracks. My lips part. I whisper her name… Pristina.