Short story of the day: Waiting hour

in #writing6 years ago (edited)

Promt: She had waited three years, she could wait another hour. 

 

 Fuente de la imagen: Pexels.com

Her heel tapped nervously on the airport floor.Her flight was delayed.

She took a deep breath, once, twice, and three times until her breathing normalized. She was anxious, She had waited too long and every minute away from him had been torture.

She ran her hand through her long hair and her eyes inevitably returned to the envelope that had brought her there. Three years of paperwork, thinking that this day would never come, praying to God for the opportunity to be with him.

She  never thought that her trip to Nigeria for her practices as a  war doctor would change her life, but ever since she had seen his kind  green eyes and felt his small hand hug her finger, she knew immediately  that she was destined to be his mother.

Her hand went to her pocket, like a habit, to look at the worn picture of the baby they called Kibo. Her baby, she corrected herself.

She looked again at the clock, an hour, an hour more and the plane would take her to meet her family. Shee took a deep breath again, and decided to go for her third coffee.

She had waited three years, she could wait another hour. 

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