I adjusted the air conditioning above my head while trying not to touch the person next to me. I didn’t have a problem-but they she was a stranger, and I don’t think going around hitting strangers in the face is exactly a good thing to do.

I was on a plane to Forks-visiting Charlie. I wasn’t moving, or anything. I was fairly happy in Jacksonville, in my own apartment, living my ‘new’ life. I had a few friends, a steady job, and a ‘normal’ life. No monsters, no incredibly strange events.

No happiness.

I shook my head, ridding these thoughts from my brain. I was…almost content. I was living a reasonable live, mediocre; nothing fantastically exciting, or interesting-but normal. I had, it seemed, had enough excitement and action for a lifetime. I had taken my risks-and wished I hadn’t. But then, there was always a chance. Or it wouldn’t be a risk.

Was this too much of a risk? Was I making another one of my famously terrible mistakes, screwing my newly built life up? Surely it would hurt me so much, and be not exactly pleasant for me or for Charlie; or, indeed, for anyone else who I met. It was going to be like a blast from the past-hitting me with the force of a hurricane and leaving me breathless.

Perhaps the masochist would come out in me and I would enjoy it; though that seemed highly doubtful.

My stomach was clenching painfully as the plane touched down-though I knew that none was from nerves; or at least, not of the plane crashing. I felt sicker by the minute, and had to somehow force the vision of the upcoming event out of my mind, through some secret door that I was struggling so hard to unlock.

The knot in my stomach only tightened as I stood in baggage reclaim and realised that I would be meeting Charlie in his car in just a few minutes. I thought I might physically throw up, and so kept a close eye on the nearest bathrooms. I didn’t need humiliation on top of more awkwardness. Obviously the security guards and people around me thought I was either a lunatic or planning to set off a bomb in the restroom, and so kept a close eye on me-but the prospect of the coming events was horrific enough to draw my mind away from caring about them.

After a minor holdup with the luggage, I was wheeling my suitcase out into the car park. Grey clouds hung over Washington-but rather than sighing in despair, they somehow lifted my heart. Maybe it was just the change. Or maybe it was in recognition of something else…

I shook my head, clearing the thoughts from my mind. No dwelling on the past-I had locked the door behind me, and was stepping through a new. Or, at least, it was opening. Still; I was moving forward, onto new things, new experiences…new memories.

I shuddered before opening my eyes fully, scanning the parking lot for Charlie. I saw him standing rather tentatively next to the car, and felt a tug at the knot in my stomach. I felt sick all over again, with more force, and I tried a smile-I felt it came across as more of a grimace. Charlie’s expression was hesitant, as though he wanted to say something, or do something, but was unsure if it was appropriate, or the reaction.

I walked over to the car, keeping my eyes on the body work, suddenly remembering the truck I had-the Chevy. My heart twisted a little as I remembered how I’d grown affectionate towards it…the radio…

I suddenly hit something hard, and jerked to my senses. I realised with a rush of embarrassment that I had walked into the car, and, as the blood flooded to my cheeks, that Charlie was standing next to me, looking somewhat wary, though concerned. I tried to smile to cover my humiliation, but it wouldn’t come, and so I simply wheeled my case around to the boot, in the hope he would take the hint. He did, and walked hastily over, helping me to open the lid and load my belongings into the boot. I then climbed into the passenger seat, fully aware of the way he stood, somewhat at a loss, staring at me.

I hoped my face didn’t give away just how much my feelings mirrored his.