To the Airport
This morning begins the same as every other, but I am finally encompassed by a growing sense of distance. The foreknowledge of departure has become our reality. We stop to eat breakfast at a restaurant. As I suspect I will not be eating for the rest of the afternoon, I gorge myself on french toast.
We arrive at the airport shortly thereafter, wending our way through the mysterious caverns of the rental return garage, eventually returning our car with a little less than fifteen minutes to spare on the rental agreement. I hand the young woman at the Thrifty kiosk my keys, and sign my receipt. Dana and I then turn towards the airport proper, anticipating to two or three hours of tedium.
Security is a breeze, but the man in front of me is much slower about redistributing his electronic gadgets and tying his shoes than even me. I find this odd because something about his demeanor tells me that he is a frequent business traveller, and I would expect a person such as this to be better organized and prepared to leap the hurdles that security tosses in our path. Perhaps, like us - he simply has nowhere better to be right now.
We arrive at Dana's gate with more than two hours to spare. Lacking better entertainment, we play Scrabble. I get stuck with some awful tiles, and Dana keeps blocking my big wordscores. This time, Dana trounces me.
And like that, she walks out of my life.