first excerpt....

the first...

I don’t what will happen for me, either. I have an idea, a hope, some thoughts. But I’m not really sure what to expect.

There’s no-one else in the car park as I walk the few hundred yards to the arrival hall. A few people are standing outside, smoking and chatting. I walk past them and have to screw my eyes up. It’s so brightly-lit. All glass and shiny metal. Because I’ve been in the dark for the past couple of hours my eyes take a few minutes to adjust. I peer around for the arrivals board. I thought there’d be one suspended from the ceiling but I can’t see anything. I can make something out right at the other end of the hall however. My feet make an echoing sound on the floor as I walk towards it, past the closed car hire counters, an empty customer service hatch and the café with just a few very bored people sitting at tables, flicking through their mobiles and drinking coffee out of paper cups. I hear my feet slapping ridiculously loudly. I feel as if I should be tip-toeing around. It is similar to walking through a very old church or a big cathedral and making too much noise.  

There is only one arrival shown on the board. No departures. It feels like an airport that’s just about to close down. The only arrival is her flight. On time. In half an hour or so. That’ll be about an hour maybe before her cases are unloaded, checks through customs, waits by the carousel for her bags and walks through the door. I wonder what she’s thinking? I wonder how she feels at this very moment? She’ll have probably just been told that the flight is on time and that she should fasten her seat belt, reading for landing. Maybe not now, maybe not half-an-hour before landing, but it won’t be long. In ten minutes or so.

I wonder if she’s thinking the same things that I am? I wonder if she knows what to expect or how things will turn out? I have a slight feeling, but no more than that, that she has more a clue than I do. She always was more attuned to things than I was, but after all this time? It’s hard to tell. I think that there should be a faint telepathy between us, even though I don’t really believe in all that sort of stuff. If I concentrate hard enough then maybe, while I’m standing in front of this electronic board showing her flight then I can make a connection. I look upwards to where I imagine the plane might be and close my eyes for a second.

There’s nothing. Or if there is then it’s simply in my imagination. I try again. I can picture her sitting on the plane, tidying things away, getting ready for the landing, looking out of the window, peering through the clouds, looking towards the ground, trying to make what just might be familiar landmarks that she’s not seen for a very long time. I can see her running her hands through her hair. Is this just guessing at what everybody does at the end of a flight or is it something else? It all feels very real. Very stark and matter-of-fact. It’s not like a dream; I can see colours, vivid colours. I hear her say my name, very quietly. It’s almost a whisper. Almost. It’s slightly louder than a whisper. I only hear it once. Yet it’s very clear. It’s not a whisper in my ear though. It’s right in my head. Right here and right now. I’m sure I’m not imagining it. I can hear her and it’s very real. All this happens in the brief moment I shut my eyes. I can see her sitting on the plane, yet I can hear her. I turn around, half expecting, no, fully expecting, her to be standing beside me, right next to me. But she’s not here. I am standing all alone in a vast arrival hall, standing alone and staring upwards at a black screen.