Platform 2B – short story

That morning I picked out what would be the last outfit I would ever wear on the planet. The trouble was I didn’t know it would be and so instead picked out an outfit to attract the attention of the rather dapper gentleman on Platform 2B. His pin stripe suit was only missing the bowler hat and umbrella.
We had once spoken briefly whilst ordering coffee and shared a shy hello
every morning since. This was the total of our conversation so far.
As the weather was so unseasonably warm I had chosen to wear a grey and
coral 1950 dress, I thought it complimented his attire perfectly and
would make us seem as if we had stepped out of a different era. I matched
it with grey heels and a grey and coral bag.
We met that morning just under the sign on platform 2B and in an unusual
twist the gentleman put down his bag and stepped towards me, clearly intent
on speaking but equally as clearly not sure where to begin. I smiled and
placed my bag against his, stepping daintily towards him, hoping he would
see this as encouragement. He looked up and smiled the most wonderful smile
I had ever seen.
Of course that was the exact moment that everything changed. The air seemed
to vibrate in waves that felt warm and smelt of cordite. I frowned and as
he glanced back over his shoulder he reached for me and pulled me to him.
The air seemed to move in ever increasingly intense waves until a dreadful ear splitting noise caught up with it drowning out the screams permeating the air as the passengers felt the first deadly force of the blast.
He held me tighter against him and we waited, together.