The woman is wizened, a tiny figure lost in the chair. Suffocating her hand with his is a grey man, all colour gone from his face. He edges close to her and his lips move. I watch as she struggles to smile at his words and gently extracts her white fingers. As she raises them to his cheek, the bell rings and a deep voice barks out a name. He rises first, then extends his hand. She hangs back for a second and, while I watch, a tear escapes and weaves its way down her cheek. His arm holds her up as they go through the door; to discover their future. I wait to be called, regretting my own solitary path.
This story has been written as part of the Trifecta Writing Challenge at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com. Every week a word is chosen from the dictionary. The writer must use the word in the context of the third definition in his or her piece. This week the word is PATH and the definition is a course or route; a way of life, conduct or thought. I hope that you enjoy my short piece.