The Girl in Red Skirt.

From across the bay I saw her standing at the pier. Her red skirt dancing in the breeze, her black hair twisted in a knot. For a moment she saw me and it took my breath away. She smiled a half smile. And all I could think was how could someone so beautiful notice someone so mediocre like me. How could someone so outstanding look and acknowledge the presence of a mere mortal. She turned and started walking towards me, smiling. I stood up and looked at her, amazed at the ravishing beauty she was. She had eyes the color of warm coffee that you had first thing on a typical winter morning. Dark, yet comforting, they had a certain sparkle in them that could let her take over the world.
She came, stood before me and smiled. I tried to smile, say hi. But I guess I was just too dumbstruck to utter anything. She said hello, introducing herself, raising her hand for a handshake. I somehow managed a smile and retuned the handshake.

“I saw you were looking at me”, she said, “Never have I been looked at as intently as I was today.” I wanted to tell her so many things. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was how amazed I was by her being. Yet I could only manage a smile.
She looked at me wondering if I were deaf. She signed to her ears asking me if I was. I managed to shake my head and say no. I looked down, scared. For now it had been too long to say anything. It would just make everything weird; or that’s what I thought.

She looked away, facing the sunset. It brought a subtle warm glow on her face. The breeze blowing her hair behind, showing off her tattoo on the neck. She looked beautiful. Perfect.

She started talking. I guess it was something about sunsets and how she never missed them. She had seen them all the places she travelled; Greece, Paris, India. Well, she tried to. She was lost in her words, they were flowing so effortlessly. And all I could do was smile and nod politely. I wanted my chance to speak, to tell her. But all the words were somewhere stuck in my throat.

A few people ran past us blocking the warm light. Few others followed. And then, many more joined. We both got distracted as to what the whole commotion and running was about. We heard someone say, run. Bomb. At the pier. Bomb.

And that was all I needed to grab her hand and pull her off the bench and towards safety. But she jerked away my hold and ran in the wrong direction. I wanted to scream, call her name, call her, to run, to run with me. Yet I just stood there, doing nothing. When an unfamiliar man caught my hand and screamed something at my face which I vaguely remember being “Hey! What are you doing? Let’s go. Not safe.”, and pulled me along with him.

Leaving, I saw her run towards a dog stuck amongst the stampede, trying to rescue him. I was now far away and all I could see of her was her red skirt still at the pier.

Boom.

It exploded, taking everything with it. The explosion was loud and bright. I closed my eyes to the white light it produced. When I opened them I started looking for anything red that wasn’t fire. My eyes kept looking for that skirt. That girl in red skirt. I prayed to god she made it out. I prayed she was alive. Oh I prayed!

The fire department arrived and started dousing the fire. The bright yellow flames were now heaps of grey dust. They started digging through the rubble to find any survivors if they could, or the departed ones to be returned to their loved ones. That’s when I saw a fireman pulling something out of the rubble. It was red. She was red. And grey. And dead. I ran, ran towards her. To take her now lifeless body in my arms. To tell her I loved her and I was sorry. But it was too late. I ran towards the man carrying her. He brought her and laid her down on the pavement. He looked at me inquiringly. “Friends or family?” He asked. I just looked at her, my vision getting hazy. I was tearing up. I got down to my knees and took her in my arms. Sobbing in the hair, holding her closer. I sobbed.

The man repeated himself, “Friends or family?”

“Mother.”, I replied.