People are shuffling in their seats, reaching for their bags as the bus slows down. I press the backs of my legs against my small suitcase. My sweaty palms begin to itch and I rub them against my jeans. We’re here. My heart pounds like it’s trying to escape from my chest. The pit of my stomach feels like it’s filled with hot ash.

‘Follow your heart,’ my mother once said. ‘Do what your gut tells you.’

I thought that’s what I was doing. But now I’m not so sure.

Plane engines rumble overhead, filled with passengers heading to faraway places. I wonder how many of them are embarking on new adventures. If they will return, or if they’ll never be seen again.

A man wearing a brown overcoat meets my eye and he smiles. He reminds me of my father; he has kind eyes, and wavy hair that my mother would say, needs a good cut. I wonder where he’s going and if he has a teenage daughter like me. If she has a boyfriend. A real one and not just one from the internet—like me.

The bus comes to a halt. It goes no further than the airport. The last stop. I feel glued to the seat. His photo flashes through my mind. The most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen. And now I’m about to meet him in real life and we’re going to do so many wonderful things together. I wish now that I had told my parents about him, but he said they wouldn’t approve. I told him he was right; they never let me do anything!

I should get off. He’ll be wondering where I am. I’ve never been on a plane before. What if I don’t like it? Or…what if I don’t want all the things he promised me? The lifestyle that people my age can only dream about, he said. Beautiful clothes and fine food in a city that never sleeps. What does that mean anyway? I want to sleep—a lot. I like my clothes; my ripped jeans and tie-dye shirts. I like my mother’s cooking and my father’s fried eggs are the best ever.

Everyone is off the bus except me. I’m alone and I’m scared now. My heart is telling me to run so fast from this airport. My gut is a mini volcano wanting to explode. I want to go home. Back to my parents and my annoying little brother.

The man in the brown coat is talking to the bus driver outside. They’re looking at me. I’ll be told to get off now. The man is leaving. The bus driver steps up into the bus.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

‘I want to go home.’ My face is wet; my tears have escaped. I wanted to be a grown-up but I’m still a child who cries for her parents. They will probably kill me when I get home but I don’t care.

The bus driver hands me his phone.

This short story was written for Esme Salon’s Picture Prompt #3. Please do join in. Prompts are an excellent way of exercising your creative flow. Go where your flow takes you!

Here’s Blogger’s Picture Prompt #1

Here’s Blogger’s Picture Prompt #2

Here’s Blogger’s Picture Prompt #4