O'Hare

Tears outlined my plum cheeks while memoirs of the last words Loved One produced in a gasp choked any thought of self compassion left inside of me. That early October twilight felt even colder than a February night by the pier. I was frozen.
Silhouetted against the porch, I could sense his inner fragility, helplessly letting me go. 
North Winthrop Avenue seemed no longer appealing to me, rather sad instead. There was no need for words: Those green eyes were compellingly telling me to stay at least for that one more night but I have never been good at demonstrating good judgement under pressure. 
'North Jefferson & Kinzie', I pronounced with a fake smirk to the Middle Eastern chauffeur. His little hand tried waving a goodbye as the car roared furiously and departed in a blink.
Loved One stayed stranded by the door for some time before crossing the gate. If he would have been capable of changing his golden hair color depending on his mood, that day should have turned night blue.
A quite heavy baggage for carrying all by myself was waiting for me at home. The empty twelfth floor apartment reminded me of what isolation felt like. I was missing his peculiar north Wisconsin accent, his silly jokes, his scented cigarettes. I forgot to pack the remains of my shredded American dream. 
It was the longest sleepless night of my entire life. A text suddenly took me back from limbo, 'you are the one'. Five thousand five hundred eighty eight miles would be separating us the next afternoon.
When I got to the airport the next morning, despite of the Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses, I could identify a familiar face.
'You ready to head home, kiddo?'. No need, I was already.