Tomorrow

By Lorena Valentina Cozzari

Yesterday he said he loved me.

Today, I sit alone on a park bench outside the hospital. Haunting black clouds form overhead.

I clutch the wooden armrest with a grip too tight, numb to the splinters piercing through my naked palm.

Yesterday’s aching regret echoes even in the wind. The hushed whispers through the trees taunt me.

I will surely collapse if I let go.

“I’ll wait. Five days. Five years. I will wait for you.”

If I told him the truth, he might have understood.

Tomorrow I will tell him I love him. Tomorrow. I hope it’s not too late.