Last Kiss Image

He reached out, set the glasses on the dash. In their reflection he could see trees and light poles flashing by at seventy-five miles an hour. He couldn’t see the gas station he was leaving behind. He couldn’t see her standing inside, behind the dirty plate glass window. She’d told him that she couldn’t go any farther with him. That the bus stopped there and she was going to take it to some other godforsaken little town. Responsibilities, she’d said. He’d gotten in the truck and peeled out like a teenager and it’d started to rain just like in a goddamned movie.


He stewed about what could have been while he drove for the next three hours. He finally had to stop at another dingy little gas station outside Dallas. Tossing the chips and soda on the counter, he reached into his pocket, and laughed, a loud harsh sound that startled the clerk. Her last goodbye kiss had been so passionate and deep, so full of regret. She’d slid her soft warm hands all over him, under his shirt and down his ass, and relieved him of his wallet.


He met the clerk’s wary eyes only to say, “Ain’t love grand?”




Photo and text by Sandra Peterson Ramirez.