St Pancras

Yesterday's daily prompt from my fabulous writing group resulted from an impromptu visit me and the other half took into St Pancras station one evening whilst in London this week. A quick diversion on the way back to our apartment, only to discover the most fantastic things accompanied by beautiful notes tinkled from the ivories.

So here's the prompt and my ten minutes (plus interruptions)

"I have to go."

"I know."

"I just..." He sighed into her neck.

"I know." She repeated, her arms around his neck.

They'd been over this conversation a thousand times already and now the clock above them ticked off their last moments in each other's arms for who knows how long he felt the need to tell her all over again. Why wasn't she enough? She should be enough but he craved home and the wide open spaces so badly. He needed to be out of this city before it crushed him.

Stood together. Foreheads touching. Eyes closed. Their lips meet in one last caress. Slowly they move apart, he wasn't sure any more if he could do this.

Then she was standing alone under that god forsaken clock as he turned and walked toward his platform. Towards his train. Towards home and an emptiness he'd never fill.