There is something special about flying. Perhaps it is the fact that I do not often fly. Perhaps it is the fact that each trip is special for a different reason: to visit a close friend, or perhaps to meet a new client.
But a recent flight became even more special.
Sitting at the gate, I could tell by the rising volume around me that more and more people were arriving at the gate area for this particular flight to Pittsburgh, but I was fairly engrossed in My book and did not pay them much attention. To be honest, I paid them no attention whatsoever, for when I reached the end of a chapter, I finally marked My place and closed the book, taking a break from reading, and that was when I discovered her.
Sitting to My right, she was reading her own book, but stopped to look at Me when she noticed I was no longer reading. The first thing I truly saw about her were her eyes: a large expressive blue, reminding me of the blue of the ocean and conveying just as much depth. There seemed to be a recognition within the blue, yet there was also a sadness which was absolutely unmistakable.
After a quick calculation, I realized the recognition was likely a result of the book she was reading. As if reading My mind, she turned the book so that I could see its cover and looked shyly and demurely away from Me, almost as if testing Me, challenging Me.
The book's title was not readable to Me, as it was in another language; I guessed it to be Italian, but could not be certain. The cover of the book was simple yet gave Me a very good idea of the contest: Against a blue background was the silhouette of a woman in profile, kneeling and looking up with her breasts thrust forward, her wrists crossed behind her, and a chain leading from her neck to a point off the left side of the book's unique cover.
"That looks like an interesting book," I commented, "probably something I would read if I knew Italian."
