(from In the Shadow of my Pen: A Collection of Poetry and Prose)
Unsplash Image by Anita Jankovic
She had always hated goodbyes.
To her, it implied that you would never see that person again.
Now, sitting alone in her hotel room, she already knew that was the case.
Their afternoon of lovemaking had ended when his cell phone began to ring.
His wife was on the other end of the line, wondering when he would be home.
When they had met at a cafe some hours earlier, it had been lust at first sight.
But he had at least been honest about his wife.
After taking the call, he hurriedly dressed and then said goodbye.
An affair with this man was not even an option.
She could never carry the guilt.
So this goodbye did not need to be cried over like spilt milk.
It was only an illicit rendezvous made on sheets of silk.
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