Home For The Holidays
The boarding announcement crackled over the loudspeaker, telling her it was time to get in line, time to go through security, time to take the Xanax.
He'd been more silent than usual, but while staring over her shoulder at something undefined in the middle distance he managed, "So I guess I'll miss you."
"Oh?" She hadn't really heard it, not while concentrating on searching the bottom of her bag for tissues. But then it sunk in, and she looked up, and caught his eye and smiled. "I'll miss you too." She felt as if, suddenly, she didn't need the Xanax.