Issue 12
Only
Allen McGill
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One Evening
The sea was calm and the sun brilliant, but the cruise suddenly became
wonderful when I met a white-haired widower named Kenneth. In tux and
gown, we dined and danced. We strolled the breezy decks to gaze at the
stars and the white crests swirling alongside the hull. We were like old friends.
He walked me to my cabin door, his hands pressed warmly into mine.
"Meet me for breakfast?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," I answered, and then laughed. "I haven't had breakfast with a man my own age since my husband died. Eight o'clock?"
He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it." Eight
o'clock." He then stroked my cheek and strode off.
But, he didn't arrive for breakfast, or for lunch. Hesitantly, I made
my way to his cabin. His door was ajar when I reached it. The beds had been
stripped and the closets were empty. The cabin boy avoided my eyes.
I would have asked the purser, but I knew what he'd say. I'd heard
similar stories. A senior's cruise may be a final cruise, albeit a happy one.
Our romance had lasted only one evening, an evening I'd cherish
forever.
~Allen McGill
From NYC, Allen McGill lives, writes, acts and directs theater in Mexico. His work appeared in The New York Times, Writer, Retrozine flashquake, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, World Haiku Review, and other publications. Email.
© 2003 by Allen McGill. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2003 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.