As Bella's brother and I dropped her off at the airport, I noticed a phenomenon that I can only refer to as a snapshot. I took this mental snapshot of Bella walking through the doors to the airport as I was getting back in the car. It's not something I consciously did. Had that been the case, I would have pictured her beautiful face, smiling. Instead, I took this snapshot as she passed through the doors, her back to me. White shirt. Red and white plaid skirt. Hair resting on her shoulders. Pulling her large, floral suitcase behind her.
She didn't look back. I couldn't look away. What if's raced through my head. I forced them back into the dark places worries hide when we're distracted by living. The car pulled away. She disappeared.
I cling to the snapshot. "Don't go," I say. I want to remember. "Don't go."
