Was it last July, or the one before ? Maybe it's this July, or the coming one.
I remember landing in this place, I was carrying baggage as I usually do, my hair was falling on my face, sticking to me through beads of perspiration, the load was heavy, and no trolley in sight...
I remember catching a glimpse of you standing in a queue with only one bag...actually you caught me first, that's how I turned my head and saw you...you were watching me struggling with my luggage, slightly amused at my muttered curses, silenced by my loud huffs and puffs...
You stood in that queue and watched me pull one bag after another, have it fall, picking it up again...an interminable manège, a merry go round that looked like this conveyor belt...
You kept a straight face, as straight as your piercing gaze...but I noticed that wry smile in the corner of your lips hiding in its folds a shy attempt... I kept cursing the load in my life pretending not to notice a damn thing, but the weight that pulled at my shoulder blades, the cross of my exile...
And there you stood, trying to be a statue of calm, erect, as if not needing the world...yet you gripped that little suitcase with all your might, I saw your knuckles go red with the clench...
I was all over the place, but was swifter than you...a cyclone always takes by surprise...I jumped the queue and ended in front of you...
Still tripping over my self, I grabbed the first exit...and I knew you were still watching...
