I watched the bus driver start the bus. Louis' window was open. He smiled at me and waved. Suddenly, I couldn't help it. I needed Louis, but I knew he had to go away for at least two months, maybe more until he got enough money to come back and support me and himself. Suddenly, I needed one last kiss.
"Wait!" I called desperately through the air.
"Pick me up," I said to my friend, "Quick,"
Without waiting my friend picked me up and I leaned towards Louis' window.
I reached my hands out, and Louis did the same. Then, our lips met one last time. It didn't last long, because the bus started to move. I kept my lips against his for as long as I could before we were separated. As he was pulled away from me I let my friend put me down and I called through the misty air to the bus.
"I love you!"
"I love you too, I'll be back before you know it. I promise!" Louis called back.
Little did I know that the next day I would received a message saying that Louis' bus had gotten in a crash and fallen off a bridge into a lake. There had been no survivors. Now, sixty years later I'm laying on a hospital bed, staring at the plain grey ceiling. I still haven't forgotten about Louis and our last kiss. I don't think I'll ever forget how our lips met for just one short moment and he told me that he loved me. I can't forget how he promised me that he'd see me again. Now, as I stare at a picture of us when we were just twenty two before he got on his last bus, a single tear drips down my face and onto the framed picture. Maybe I will see him again, in another life. That was my last thought as I drifted into a peaceful sleep that I would never wake from.