They sat in a corner booth at their favorite coffee shop. She ordered a chai latte, as she always did. He just got a bottled water. He didn’t want anything to distract him from these last few, precious moments. He wanted to watch her, understand her, know just what she was thinking, feeling.
Last night, at her place, she’d shown him a tattoo on her back — butterfly wings. It was beautiful.
“Take good care of Rascal,” she said. “I’ll be back for him as soon as I can.”
He would. It was his last promise to her, a promise she’d let him make. To look after her cat until she returned. For her absolute final time in this world.
“I’ll find you, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing,” she’d vowed last night, in between his kisses. “If you decide to come with me, you have to be ready to leave when you see me.”
He knew he would be ready. Oh, maybe not financially, or in terms of saying goodbye to his family. But he would be ready to go with her. He had known that a long time ago.
Now he just had to wait; wait for her to come back; back for him.