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December will come :.

September 5, 2007

Her warm damp breath caused the window to fog up, and every so often, she’d wipe away the condensation as it obscured the view of outside world.

Twinkling lights beckoned from afar. And her heart ached.  If she closed her eyes, and wished hard enough, maybe she would be magically transported back to the source of the lights, the source of her heartache. She leaned her forehead against the glass, and the surface pressed against her forehead. She swallowed hard, trying to prevent the tickle of the sob building up in her throat from escaping.

If wishes were horses, she thought dismally.

Releasing herself from the captive spell, she took a final glimpse through the window, and gently caressed it with the touch of longing, even though the touch wasn’t real, a futile gesture, it felt like an appropriate farewell.

“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered, her breath fogging the glass one last time.

She hoisted her backpack on her shoulder, and trying hard not to look back, started walking in the opposite direction of where her heart lived. Gate 56, as was printed on the ticket in her trembling hand. It may have just as well been the Gates of Hell she was walking towards, for all the apprehension she felt.

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