This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.
I park my motorcycle outside Maria’s small apartment. I thought to myself: you really think she will forgive you?
I had run away. Commitment was not in my vocabulary. I need time to think I told her. “I think you are making a huge mistake,” she had shouted at my departing trail of stones my bike kicked up.
Ten lonely months on the road had convinced me she was right. Time to suck it in and make amends.
Looking up at her widow I see the shadow of a man in a bath robe looking down at me.