“So many miles away…” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible amidst the vastness of the space. Memories of a time long gone played before him like a silent film—images of a black Cadillac revving after he got his first big raise, children playing pinball at the laundromat, midnight coffee at diners.
As the minutes turned into hours, Walter’s thoughts began to dance with an arpeggio rhythm. One step, two steps, three steps, four… He remembered the dance lessons he and his wife, Eleanor, took in their early days. The way their feet moved in synchrony, the shared laughter when one would make a misstep. How they would sway to the music, lost in each other’s embrace.
He remembered their first awkward kiss. Her laughter made him second-guess himself for a heartbeat, wondering if he had missed the mark. But then, her gaze, heavy with desire, met his, and she returned his kiss with fervor.
But as the years passed, Eleanor’s steps grew fainter. They danced less, and Walter found himself often waiting. Waiting at home, waiting at the hospital, and now, waiting at this terminal, hoping to catch a glimpse of her once more, if only in spirit.
A breeze stirred, bringing with it the faint scent of lavender—Eleanor’s favorite. Walter smiled. For a brief moment, he felt her presence beside him, as if she had never left.
The terminal seemed less empty now. Walter stood up, ready to move on, still carrying with him memories.
