I remember being in Palermo airport, no less than 2 years back, in a group of 30ish, all scattered around in hopes of finding something better to do than staring at the minute hand tick down all 4 hours of our wait there. I was near the check-in, curiously watching two or three caged pups being manhandled as they hurried to check in the luggage. It was the only place with stable wifi, and as far as I was concerned, that was way more important than exploring that dusty two storey container. It was afternoon then, so I didn't expect a reply from you, just tapping frigid fingers rapidly against the screen more out of boredom than anything else. It came as a surprise to me when you replied, (now that I think back about it, could it not have been you?), and at once, I felt the depths of the ocean floors between us fold. I can no longer recall what we talked about or even how close we were back then, but I remember feeling comfort in knowing we both wanted to be where the other person was. There was some sense of security in that, but what 'that' was, neither of us knew, and 'that' never lasted long enough for either of us to find out.
The airport used to be a place of blissful memories. But now that has vastly changed. It's sterility masked the overbearing air of paranoia that shrouds the back of my head whenever I visit, leaving the hairs on the back of my neck on end. I can imagine myself there in the queues, waiting for someone, hoping, expecting, only to continue to wait, wait, and wait. I can imaginemyself as a bystander, watching the person I love walk out with someone else, putting them first, before blending into a cluster which I cannot penetrate. I cannot be there. I am an invisible shadow that neither saw nor forgot. There was a sense of insecurity in that, but what 'that' was, we both knew, and it hurt to find out.
