Fifty-Five unfinished draft

      Max reached for her 70’s style carpet bag, decorated with fabric like scratchy apartment flooring, complete with dead looking brown flowers and orange swirls; a rustic gloomy retro style she had always loved. She could imagine her mother shaking her head and giggling at the unsightliness of her only daughter's taste in fashion.

      As she struggled to get her overstuffed bag onto the wobbling rack, something caught her eye, or rather someone. A man, a vision in blue, dressed in a sloppy mix matched outfit, pet carrier in one arm and an enormous pink beach bag in the other. Next to him a woman in a white and black polka dotted sundress, digging in her purse for what would seem to be something of the utmost importance, judging by the flushed cheeks and stern brow upon her overly elegant face. 

    Her breath quickened, yet she felt as though she wasn't breathing at all. Max grabbed the strap of the luggage cart and scurried to the first bench she laid eyes on. Behind her a fountain drowned out the noise of the screaming babies, laughing tourists, and her own obnoxiously beating heart. Her mind raced at the impending reality that had his back to her.  

   Thirty-seven years had passed since she last looked into his eyes, and longer since she had spoken without anger to this man. Thirty-seven years of regret and longing were less than five feet from her. Should she turn and walk away a second time, or face her greatest fear and her deepest desire? The hardest part about making this decision, had to be the lush that stood beside him.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

This is effective writing that could easily be continued. Of course the reader wants to know more! I at first assumed Max was somewhat young, but later decided she might not be, due the thirty-seven years.

[Anna Marie]

I appreciate you reading and the feedback! Thank you.