She slowly tries to open her eyes. The couch is surprisingly comfortable and provided for by four to five hours of a good night’s sleep. Still she does not feel rested. She hears voices in the kitchen, everyone’s awake. Disappointment. He said he’d come to wake her up when everyone was asleep. So they could finally steal just a few minutes alone. What for, they didn’t really know. They just wanted to have a moment – to think – together. But the sun’s up, it’s morning and he didn’t come. He leaves in less than an hour and their final and only possibility to say goodbye has passed. She gets up, gets dressed and tries to fake a smile when she greets everyone. He looks apologetically at her and shrugs his shoulders. Just a little, so no one would see. She tries to look away, she wants it to look like she doesn’t care but he knows her better than that. After a quick and more quiet than comfortable breakfast they start carrying the luggage to the car. Bag by bag the moment they both dread gets closer… more real. Suddenly they find themselves alone behind a half-closed door. No words. He leans forward, holds her tight, kisses her forehead and leaves. She stands perfectly still and lets the incoherent chaos inside herself roar for a few minutes. Then she leaves the room, passing her tears off as too little sleep and a bad morning.
The car rolls out of the driveway and the tears down her cheeks. But looking at each other it suddenly becomes perfectly clear: The bittersweet sadness they secretly share is the evidence for the beginning of something extraordinary.