Point of View

 

     I can’t help but stare at my girlfriend, Katy. Even when we’re alone together in front of the TV, my focus is never on whatever mundane program happens to be taking up the screen at the moment. It’s on her. She’s not a conventional beauty, all plastic frills and expensive edges.

 

She’s a practical girl with the shape and complexion of a woman in a portrait from the Victorian era. I love to admire the curve of her face and the delicate bones of her hand when she reaches up to brush an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear.

 

     Her lips are full, pink and at the moment, pouting. I don’t know why she insists on watching the evening news. It always makes her cry. She’s so sensitive. She and I are the exact opposite in that respect. I’m the strong, silent one in the relationship.

 

     Still, seeing her like this makes me want to reach out and comfort her. I feel if I say or do just the right thing, then maybe she’ll smile again, turn off the TV and be safe in my arms.

Her head turns slightly in my direction and I notice a flush in her ordinarily pale cheek. She must have caught me staring. She never says anything but I think it makes her uncomfortable. I avert my gaze back to the TV and focus on the story.

 

##

 

     When Katy felt the vibration in her pocket, she practically jumped off the couch. With shaking fingers she pulled out her phone and pressed it to her ear.

 

     “Katy, oh God!” The voice was that of her mother. “Did you see the news?”

 

     Katy walked behind the couch to the picture window and stared out into the autumn night. A slight breeze rustled the hedges along the side of the house.

 

Then, all was still.

 

     Katy brushed the tears from her cheeks and took a deep breath. The calm tone in her voice surprised even her.

 

     “I know, Mom. He escaped. But it’s been two years and I’ve moved to the opposite coast. Don’t worry. He’ll never find me.”

 

 

The End