There's no spirit in this place. Maybe--maybe when I was young, there was the bitterness of departure, the excitement of travel about to begin. When I was young, there might have been the detensioning sigh of arrival, the warmth of travels finished and the welcoming arms of home.
It all died screaming when the security gates moved up the hall, but the roar of engines spooling up for departure and the deafening screech of fears made new 300 miles away in a smoldering hole in the center of a city washed them out like a puddle before a bursting dam.
Now even the air tastes sterile. Sterile the way the bleached air is in the cabin planes. The only thing that keeps me from getting sick is the desert sun awaiting me, the thought of sand and fire and freeways, and the impossibly pretty blonde sitting across from me.
In a tide of uneventful faces, she's like a sunflower in a field of wheat. She's nearly cut from stone, she's in such good shape. And her skin matches, flawless. Eyes like clear water in sunny climes, and a look of cold determination and intelligence. Hell, she's even wearing the kind of nikes I like.
Our eyes occasionally meet in disinterest, not looking directly at each other or anything at all, just roving in boredom. Beyond the fact it's half a bored hour in an airport, and that she's so far out of my league there's galaxies between, I don't want to interfere. She's so perfect as a human in a moment, I'm afraid if I approached her she'd shatter like glass and I'd have murdered a higher stage of human. Plus, it's better just to leave her to her own story, and not ruin this moment of amazement.
She points out that someone dropped her sunglasses. Her voice is perfect.
I don't believe, almost, that she's real. She's a reflection of what I want to be, in honesty.
And there's probably someone out there that thinks I'm some stupid fucking ideal. Everyone has these moments, whether they realize or not. We witness an idea that has actually been someone else with their own life and thoughts the whole time.
It's the only break from the disgusting view of an airport made ugly.
