Summer 2001.
"Got your itinerary. See you curbside." He hangs up the phone.
Curbside.
She winks. "Let's do this again."
Many curbsides since.
He touches her arm. "You look great."
"JINX! 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 …" They laugh. She twirls her hair.
Fall 2006.
She remembered his smell, his look before work, before his chemo.
They hugged twice on one occasion.
Never kissed.
Curbside.
"Watch your step, ma'am." She nods at a stranger.
Inhaling deeply, she will rent a car.
Back story -The story is a revision of a one-paragraph story, Airport Duty, initially written in the early 2000s and last revised in 2018, which read as follows -
"Thanks for your itinerary. I’ll be curbside." It started in the summer of 2001. He picks her up at the Oakland airport. South 25 miles, and she is at her doorstep. From her doorstep, north 42 miles, and he is home. He says he lives in San Francisco. She likes to smell him. They laugh together. Since then, they have met often, at curbside. She knows how he looks before he goes to work, and she knows how he looks before his evening chemo treatments. They've never kissed. They hugged twice on one occasion. It's the fall of 2006. Next month, she will rent a car.
This version, Airport Duty, Curbside, is inspired by author, Vanessa Sperling (on Substack), who shared about mini-sagas in 50 Words (YouTube) and her mini-saga, A Fight Over a Horse. (Yes, Airport Duty, Curbside is more than 50-words.)