It is 37 hours ago. The warm sun streaming through the plate glass windows feels good as it fights the chilly cafe air. The coffee fails to keep me awake and the couch is too comfortable. I set the cup on back on the table, close my book and sink lower into the cushions. Voices fade to murmurs as I stop trying to listen to the conversations around me. As I close my eyes I see there are no clocks on the walls, and I have no watch with me. Behind shut eyes there are no sights to offend, and there is nothing to suggest the passing of time. The only link to the world is the sound of the crowd conversing with itself, which is so universal I could imagine myself anywhere – but I’m fine where I am.

It is 6 hours ago. The pillow has sunk too far behind my back and economy seats were never comfortable. The coffee doesn’t let me sleep, and bright screens behind every seat scream out the slowly passing time. There’s not much walking room and I’m going slightly stir-crazy. I try to will the clocks to move faster, but my mastery of time is still incomplete. I let out a sigh, and despite myself, I smile. It’s a good future to look forward to, and the future has a way of turning into the present.

It is now. Coffee, my constant companion, sits steaming in a cup next to me. I have a few hours to kill before the next flight, and there’s a sense of deja-vu coming on. Hadn’t I taken a flight from this same gate 2 years ago? Who knows. Maybe in 2 more years I’ll be back here, wondering the same thing. All I can do now is wait.

Advertisement