Seven Minutes (IP)

He closes the little door, and as the humming noise starts, he walks over to the computer again and sits down, his eyes narrowing against the glare of the screen. It’s late. He sighs, lights a cigarette, and begins to type.

I know we’ve already said our goodbyes, but I had to send you one last email. It makes me feel that little bit nearer to you. I want you to know last night – my memories of last night – will stay with me forever.

He pulls on his cigarette.

I know what your friends told you. I know it went against your judgment to trust me.

No delete that.

I know it went against your judgement agreeing to meet me after such a short time.

That’s better.

And I want to thank you for taking that leap of faith, trusting me.

No.

Putting your trust in me. Believe me, it won’t be squandered.

Squandered is good!

He lifts his glass and takes a sip.

I should be in the car. My driver’s outside. But he can wait. I hate leaving. I’ll be back – for good, soon. This is the last one. Please remember I won’t be able to contact you for a while. It’s pretty much a total blackout once we leave the UK.

Does that sound too dramatic?

Sometimes I hate my job. I’m just going through the motions, now, counting down the days. Some things are more important than money and thrills. Now I’ve got you I have a reason for staying alive.

He felt a lump form in his throat; the emotion was so real

Got to tear myself away now. I’ll take your lovely face with me; it’ll be in my head every second I’m gone.

He presses send, takes a sip from his glass, then clicks on photo booth and peers closely at the image of himself on screen. He puts down the drink, and runs his finger along the furrow between his eyebrows, then he pulls the skin taught, looking at the result.

He sits back for a moment, stretching his arms, flexing his fingers. He looks at the clock in the top right hand of the screen and raises his head, listening.

There’s a ding, and he gets up and goes back to the microwave, lifts the lid, then sets the timer again for the remaining two minutes.

Sitting back down, he moves the cursor to bookmarks, and then favourites. The little box on the screen says “Welcome John1967” and he clicks the button just below, where it says, “Create a New Profile.”

........................

She gazes at the screen, taking it all in. It’s been a long day and the fatigue shows in her eyes. She sighs deeply and pushes her hair away from her face, brushing the sore patch of skin where his stubble rubbed her.

She scrolls down; pauses at the final sentence and a single tear trickles down her face. She ignores it, feeling the familiar lump form in her throat. The emotion is so real.

There’s a slight noise from behind her. A soft hand caresses her neck, and she shivers and bends back into it. Deft fingers feel for the pressure points, manipulating the aching muscles, taking the stress away. She sighs again, reaches back and takes the hand, stroking it gently, pulling it round so that it cups her face.

The fingers begin to move again, this time in soft circular movements and she sighs with pleasure this time. The faint hum of the computer, and their soft synchronised breathing fill the air. Together, they both watch the cursor as it moves towards the button on the left hand side that says, “Create a New Profile”

From the kitchen, the microwave buzzes just as her fingers begin to type.

“Come and eat ….first”

It’s not a command, more a gentle, teasing invitation.

Obediently, she pushes back the chair and pulls herself up, turning to the other woman, leaning towards her, closer, breathing in her scent. A slow smile forms on her face.

“….And then?”