That was the third train she had waited for him to come out of. The third time her heart felt like it was about to rip out of her chest. The third coffee she had watched spill over the lip of the mug.
She closed her eyes slowly, placed a ten dollar bill on the glass table and gathered her belongings. She wasn’t even sure what she expected from this meeting. Would they get back together? Did she even want to?
“Lane?”
Lane turned around quickly, her scarf coming undone and resting on her arm.
“Mark?”
They were in each others arms before they could fully grasp what they were doing. It was like answering to your name or squinting in the sunlight-- uncontrollable.
They broke apart quickly; all tucking hair behind ears and wringing hands.
47
Marlowe Bangeman