You'll never forget me, she intoned. You'll be surrounded by hundreds of strangers, but you might see something that sparks a memory of me.
That's why he wore sunglasses now, hoping the reflective turbulence of lights and passers-by didn't spark anything..rather that they felt wooden or deadened.
There had been a few conversations in the terminal, the overhead announcements blaring away while he had to ask her to repeat herself time and again. He wondered why he even tried to hold a dialogue with her while walking past beeping golf carts and gate change warnings.
Mostly he knew that the tether between them felt present...felt taut. No real distance could unroll its miles and winnow away in timezones. But for now the rope had frayed...like in an action movie, strands popping slowly until it just gave way. No pull, no scream...just like a broken shoelace.
I can try he replied, and her face frowned.
Well that makes me sad.
I didn't say I'd be successful. But maybe I can pretend.
So he sat, mostly pleased that the tiles and the ceilings and the walls and the chairs were black and white...no real colors invading his vision, the sunglasses helping the effect and the result being a stark view where even the most brightly colored dresses were now devoid of any contrast.
And departures left him feeling reminded...of the comings and the goings...the never-staying. People in-between things...home or away.
She was now a missed flight, a missed chance...a journey not taken, a place not visited, red letters on the monitor, no announcements...just a very brief silence.
He pretended now, in the missed connection, that he really hadn't missed anything at all.
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