I arrived, stepped off the bus in a slice of small town Brazil as he once called it. Not a trace of him anywhere…
Bathroom. Freshen face. Fluff hair. Smell unforgettable. After my last-minute makeover, I emerged from the doorway ready. And there he was. Tunnel vision sucked me into them ever-green eyes framed with shorter hair, and that same ol’ mouth-watering smile. I smiled back, hard. We wrapped in a warm, close hug hello.
Then he stepped aside and said, “This is Livia.”
I gave her two very weak, customary kisses on each soft cheek as my stomach sank to China, and as my heart got the 300 Trojan spear treatment. I came all that way …it was emotional murder.
© 2012 Bernadette Ignacio
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Bee's Stoetry 
Someone is guilty of love in the first degree.
It happens. Goes to shit. Then we start again in the morning….oh the woes of how it goes.