Our Paradise Dream


“I record these final words, on this message, so you will have record of my feelings. You never seem to have enough time to talk about the most important things in life, or to tell those closest to you what you really want said. I love you Anita. You will never know how hard it was to take this final mission. However, the choice for me was my personal enjoyment, or the destruction of the world.
“It’s time. Once I go under this fence the ball will be in motion. I’ll either die attempting to stealing the plans, or be declared dead for succeeding and never be able to speak to you again. I wish, for your sake, that someone else could go. We both know it’s in my blood. It’s my heart and soul. Just know I’ve always loved you. Remember the good times, and I will always. Be near.”
A dog barked breaking the silence.
“It’s time. I must go. I’ll see you in our paradise dreams.”
Soon the sound of horns blared, followed by several gunshots. Then the message was silent.

“Those were his final words. Why did he take on this mission? If his love was so sincere, why did William take this mission. We were due to head for Jamaica to live our retirement,” the woman said bowing her head in tears.
“I don’t know,” a tall young man said, passing an envelope to the beautiful middle-aged woman.
“What’s this?”
“This, is why I came. William said to deliver it to you, if he didn’t return.”
“Thank you,” she accepted the envelope.
“Anita,” the younger man stared sternly, “I was never here. The agency can never know. I wish I could stay and mourn with you, but I must go.”
“I understand. That was how things always were with William. I’ll be fine.”
The young man left the her alone sitting at the at the table staring at her coffee. She opened the letter,
“Anita, my love. You know by now that I am not returning to you. You’ll find a ticket to Jamaica, and the key to our retirement bungalow enclosed. Finish the dreams we started, and as always I’ll see you in our paradise dreams.”

She smiled, and left the restaurant for the snowy New York streets.
About ten hours later the old Ford car pulled up a driveway at the edge of a small Jamaican village, “Here you are, Our Paradise of Dreams,” the old cab driver said. “Enjoy your stay”
She reached into her purse and pulled money out to pay the driver, as he sat her bags beside the car. She looked past him to the man sitting on the porch watching the sea beyond. A smile crossed her face, “Oh, we will. It is Our paradise of dreams after all.”

© Copyright (Summer) 2017 D.G. Shipton . All rights reserved.


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