He arrived a few days early under the cover of darkness. The Suburban’s windshield wipers worked dutifully as the motorcade pulled onto Interstate 275. Ann sat beside him. She massaged the pressure points in his palm. He focused his gaze on the rain falling on, this, his chosen city.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he thought. He’d never say it out loud, though. For one, she’d never let him spiral. Not this week. Not after all they’d been through. Not after all this time. Not after all the late nights. The money. She wouldn’t let him. Not now.
The light off the freeway cast a yellow hue over them both. The contrast of his salt and pepper hair showed now more than ever. She’d waited years for that gray hair. That distinction. As a young man, she’d always found him handsome, if not a little boyish. But, now. Now he was finally the man she’d always imagined he would be. And this. This was their moment.
“It just wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said. “The sun was supposed to shine.”
She let go of his palm and ran her hand through his hair. He continued to stare out the window as the windshield wipers kept their cruel time.