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I didn't want to leave, pulling away from her hand to walk to the airplane. She was crying, but my eyes were dry right up until I stepped onto the plane; suddenly I knew I was leaving and the tears flowed freely.
The look of amazement on her face as I finish a huge breakfast...
The french couple in the seats next to me look uncomfortable as I sob quietly and fumble with my seatbelt. They seem relieved when a steward offers me a centre row of seats to myself. The pretty stewardess really wants to ask me what the matter is, but she wordlessly hands me some tissues and hurries away to help an indian mother and her child.
Girlish giggling as my eyes go wide at the taste of my first root beer...
More tears and my eyes are hurting now, but the pain behind my sternum is receding. The plane begins to accelerate and vibrate; I wish for an explosion, a disaster that will stop me crying.
Mischief in her eyes as we walk along the forest path...
So much turbulence, it spills my tea and the seatbelt light stays on. I'm all cried out now; puffy red eyes and sore nose evidence of the emotions still swirling around my insides.
Walking across the room, knowing that her eyes are dancing over my body...
Stretched out across the four seats, trying to ignore the shaking loud plane all around me. The same position as last night, legs bent slightly but still pointing straight out and my arms drawn up to my head. But there are only seat backs behind me, nothing and noone else.
Safe in our mutual beauty
The news programme shows chaos in the UK. I leave the country alone for a couple of days and everything goes to pot.
22 deep blood red beads around my wrist, a bracelet that will never leave me...
This weekend was the best of my life.