7
Jack
The week passed so f*****g slow as I waited to hear Anna’s old floatplane fly overhead. Sometimes, I thought I heard the propellers of her plane from the north and I ran towards the front door, out onto the lawn, and peered straight up. Each time, I was embarrassed at the level of disappointment I felt in the hollow of my chest.
I was totally whipped. I knew I’d see her again in just a few days, but my pillow smelled like her, my study smelled like her, and I couldn’t get her out of my head. Hell, we’d f****d on practically every horizontal surface in my house. There was literally nowhere in my house I could look without seeing her, hearing her, feeling her.
Missing her.
I tried to shake off the Anna-induced fog and made one big move, one that would set my course for the forese
