Lucy had always been a nervous flyer and so it was unfortunate that her job meant that she had to fly rather a lot. She had developed an airport routine to try and minimise her nerves. She would arrive at the airport far too early for check-in, have a coffee and wait for check-in to start whilst reading 'Pride and Prejudice' which she normally found trite and silly but always read at airports. She would check in as soon as it was called, get rid of her bags then go into the airport lounge to find a secluded bar in some far-flung corner of the airport, have a drink and read 'Pride and Prejudice' again, whilst frequently visiting an equally low-attended toilet where she could panic quietly to herself in a toilet stall without worrying about being disturbed. At the last moment she would go to the gate, get straight on to the 'plane and try to sleep for the entire flight.
One day in March she was going to Madrid from London for a conference on an early morning flight. The airport was very quiet when she arrived. Lucy was in two minds about that. On the one hand, it was good that nobody was there to see her panic, on the other hand sometimes it was nice to see other people and be reassured that she wasn't alone and to look at all the other people coolly going about their flightly business without worrying stupidly and try and convince herself that she was one of them. None of the coffee places were open so she settled herself into a corner facing the check-in desk and tried to lose herself in her book. Once check-in opened and she was in to the airport lounge she was relieved to find that the bar was open and were happy to serve her a lager top.
Lucy settled herself into a corner, got out her book and took a sip of her drink. She hadn't been there very long when she noticed another customer enter. A man, about her age, dark hair and striking dark eyes. He too ordered a drink but stayed perched at the bar, fidgeting from foot to foot. Lucy vaguely wondered whether he was a nervous flyer as well and was lost in that thought when he looked over at her, caught her watching him and smiled a disarming smile. Lucy blushed and returned to her book, furiously trying to read. A moment later the chair opposite her creaked back and the man sat down. She looked up and smiled nervously, about to tell him that she wasn't really in the mood for company. With her willowy figure and long, soft curls of honeyed blonde hair she was used to fending off unwanted male attention.
"You hate airports too, don't you?" He asked. Despite herself, Lucy nodded, "Me too." Lucy put her book down politely.
"Where are you flying to?" She asked. It was the question everyone asked in airports and she was almost embarrassed at having gone along with the clichΓ©.
"Istanbul." He replied, "Boarding starts in an hour. You?"
"Madrid." She said, "I've got longer to wait. I have an airport routine, you see." Lucy immediately regretted saying that because the man's eyebrows rose.
"Routine?" He asked.
"Yes, I get here a lot earlier than I need to and read." She waved the book as evidence. The man nodded in understanding.
"You may not believe this," he said, "but I have a routine too."