I stopped for a moment, stepping to the side, out of the path of other disembarking passengers. A deep breath, pausing for time by draping my suit jacket over the extended handle of my suitcase. It had been a long damn day. My phone heavy in my hand. I toyed with it. I toyed with the idea of just leaving the damn thing off. Imagining 'accidentally' leaving it behind on some anonymous airport seat. I stared at the black glass, lost in the fantasy of letting go... knowing I never would.
Instead I hit the power button and watched the screen flare to life and for the 5 mississippi's it took to load I hated myself for the hope that flared in my chest. Every damn time. Me wishing for a message that had never, and probably would never, come. It was funny. I always warned you that one day I would have to ghost you. There one day, suddenly gone the next. It had felt better when I thought it was going to be me that did the leaving. But this... not knowing. It ate me alive.
I hated myself again when the hope died. Our secret messenger silent. I opened it anyway. Just in case the notifications were broken. I hated myself when muscle memory automatically took me to the picture of you. Buried in a folder structure and hidden in a pool of group photos from some party we had attended together. Better to hide you in plain sight, lost amongst faces I no longer remembered. Gods, your smile still slays me, it always has. How could you leave without saying goodbye?
It took another deep breath before I was moving. Tucking you away, and catching up my jacket and the handle of my suitcase. I walked slowly, following the last of my fellow passengers as they made their way down streamlined blank corridors, guided ever onwards by the benign exit signs promising taxi ranks or a tour bus to whisk weary travellers further away. I didn't look outside, I didn't look up. The polished cement guiding me onwards and out.
I doubt I even blinked until I came to navigate the stairs. Again moving to the side to let someone pass. I looked up fleetingly, her chin tucked low, buried inside clothing more suited to a ski resort than an Australian airport. Her figure petite and careful, and followed by the scent of warm vanilla flowers and the bite of cinnamon. And all of a sudden it was 5 years ago and I was staring into your smiling eyes and hearing you laugh at one of my bad jokes.
My eyes eager and with a mind of their own, seeking you out even though I knew you weren't there. Instead they found the figure of the woman and her coat leaving through the exit doors, out in the baggage area. My feet making up their own mind to follow even though my bag was in my hand.
She seemed so familiar.
I suddenly hurried. Though I had no reason to. Wanting to keep her in sight. Her gait... seemed so familiar. Your smiling eyes haunting me from the distance of a memory seeming to goad me on until she stopped. I stood back, watching, my stance unsure. She found herself an empty corner and seemed to tuck herself away inside her clothes.
It could be you, I told myself.
It could be you.
She was thin, but the height was right, her walk... I studied her from within the crowd. Her smell. Your smell. It lingered in my nose, of warmth and spice.
She lifted her chin when the carousel started. A habit of interest that she quickly retracted, but it was long enough for me to see her jaw line, her lips, that mouth. I remembered when it smiled for me, bright and earnest.
It was then I felt my heart lurch.
