she is waiting

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The woman stands at the gate, gazing into the distance. Her hand runs distractedly over the wrought iron, paint flaking off, drifting slowly and haphazardly to the ground. She is humming a tune, but we are unable to hear the melody. She is waiting for her lover to arrive. Her short hair has been freshly dyed, her clothes freshly pressed and her lipstick applied with perfection. Indeed, she looks no different to the woman she was when last he saw her, many moons past. She smiles the smile of a woman who will soon find herself whole again. Complete, and consumed with a ferocious happiness that has been a long time coming. She has been waiting for her lover to arrive for sixteen years. Within hours he will lower himself onto her and they will be left to lie together for always, for ever, for eternity. They will never need to be alone again, and one day they will be as one, their crumbling bones intertwined until eventually they become dust, together. He is not just her lover. He is her husband, the father of her children, her soulmate, her companion and her confidante. Tomorrow they will be joined together again, a marriage united again in death, sadness competing with happiness. But for now the woman simply stands at the gate, gazing into the distance. Her hand runs distractedly over the wrought iron, paint flaking off, drifting slowly and haphazardly to the ground. She is humming a tune, but we are unable to hear the melody. She is waiting for her lover to arrive.