The Last Kiss
Copyright© Cassandra Parker 2020 All rights reserved.
The right of Cassandra Parker to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published by Cassandra Parker.
Cassandra Parker 2020-04-30 The Last Kiss. E-book Edition.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
The Last Kiss is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All locations except known towns, cities, and those listed at the back of this book are fictitious.
Any errors are entirely made by the author.
The Last Kiss
The last time I saw my love was a gloomy day at the train station. He stood facing me, briefcase in hand and Bowler hat on his head. I dug into my clutch purse for a few dollars to give him while I fumbled for the words that would make him stay.
We had been together over twenty years. I am so much older than him, but the years didn’t seem to matter. He once said, “what is age, but a number?” when I voiced my concern over the difference.
The day came when he told me he had to leave. “It’s best if I go,” he said, donning his hat. “I need a few dollars.” He paused and turned toward me. “I must go,” he said.
I looked up into the most amazing crystal blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Can’t you stay?”
“No,” he responded.
“I don’t understand,” I choked back tears.
“Don’t you?” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “I think you do.”
“Vincent? Is it something I did?”
“No, Rose. It’s not you. It’s me. Something I did.”
“But…but…” I motioned with a wave of my hand. “All our plans…”
“We will always have Paris,” Vincent whispered, a lopsided grin creased his lips.
We had traveled the world. Our nights were spent dancing and dining. Days he spent working. Funny thing, he never told me what his work entailed.
Every city we visited a heinous crime occurred. A decapitation in one, a bombing in another. Strangulation. Poison. Gun shot. The list went on. I remember asking about his work.
“Don’t worry yourself about my work,” he replied as he adjusted his tie. “It would bore you.”
“I’m interested in everything about you,” I commented, pulling on my gloves. “We’ve been together a long time and I still don’t know how you earn our living. You must have a high paying job since we are always traveling the world.” I placed my hat on my head.
“Something like that.” He turned to look at me. He actually had to tilt his head down. He was so tall.
“I need a few dollars to pay the porter.” He held his hand out.
“Why?” I asked as I fumbled getting the money out.
“Why I need the dollars?”
“Why leave?” I cried as we walked through the station. Me with my clutch purse, him with his briefcase.
“To keep you safe.”
“Safe? From what?” I asked.
He used his free hand to tilt my face upward. Vincent lowered his lips to mine. His lips were soft and yet firm as he pressed them against mine.
“Goodbye, my love.” He shoved the blade into my heart.
The Last Kiss
Nice short story