The last time I talked

The last time I talked to Kathy, the thursday before she died, she kept talking about going on a trip somewhere. She had no idea where it would take her, and she wouldn’t tell me how she would start out the trip. She said she was nervous about leaving Huntsville behind when she took this trip. I grilled her again and again trying to get some idea of what direction she would head but to no avail. That weekend I kept hoping I would hear a knock on my apartment door and Kathy would be outside to surprise me. It never happened. I will regret always that I never suggested it.

So here I am like every prisoner who made a bad choice, with only my imagination to think about how things might have been.