Any nearby airport patrons could pick up the distinct echo of high heeled shoes clacking on the tiled floor. A cadence that suggests the woman creating such rapid footsteps is late for her departure and unfortunately, she is. Surprisingly, passing through TSA was not troublesome for Michelle; discovering her water had been shut off in mid-shower this morning proved differently. Not only had it prompted last-minute-thinking to get the shampoo out of her hair, but she couldn’t locate her phone charger either. A responsible adult would have plugged their cell phone in the night before, but Michelle hadn’t played the organizational card. That night having partied with some friends, she awoke in the morning with smeared black mascara and red lipstick on her face; still wearing a black pencil skirt with a white t-shirt (now covered in lipstick stains). In fact, she couldn’t recall going up the elevator, staggering into her apartment complex, and collapsing in bed. She managed to kick off her shoes, but she didn’t set an alarm to wake up.
By some miracle she survived the morning and was able to call a Taxi to the airport. Blame it on her irresponsibility or bad timing all around, she was late for her flight. Finally she reached her designated terminal and presented a crumpled ticket to the woman with a scanner who tittered, “You’re lucky! They’re about to close the gate.” Michelle ignored her comment and swiftly proceeded down to enter the airplane’s entrance. She ignored the flight attendant that welcomed her. Glancing down at her creased ticket Michelle slowed through the aisle on the lookout for her seat. Everyone in first class were already settled in and unbothered to the outside world. She peered in envy having only secured a middle class seat for herself. Within seconds, her eyes clocked him. The familiar brown locks and downcast green eyes of a man who caused a ghostly tingle on her finger where a ring used to be. A flush of warmth invaded her body as she neared closer and closer. It can’t be, no way. The tickets’ truth placed her in the vacant seat next to her ex-husband. He hadn’t noticed the woman at first; too focused on reading the book in his lap. Out of the corner of an eye he spotted her golden blonde hair and massive purse on the floor. Two giveaways providing enough information that he recognized who she was, but bewildered that she wouldn’t say hello. Surely, she noticed who he was. They hadn’t separated on bad terms.
“Michelle.” He spoke, breaking the silence between them and the roar of the plane’s engine. It felt strange to utter her name as he hadn’t seen her since the day he grabbed the rest of his things from their apartment. It was a bittersweet day. The sun blazed with summer heat as the moving truck waited downstairs. Inside, the walls were exposed leaving a hanging shape of dust where framed smiling pictures used to be. The bed looked lonely without two nightstands and neighboring furniture. Every room of the apartment held a bare and empty feeling. He didn’t know exactly how to feel, but possessed a complex sense of relief to leave that part of his life behind. “You weren’t going to say hello to me?”
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Michelle didn’t try to hide her face within the confines of her hair nor was she trying to conceal her identity. In truth, her mouth dried up and her tongue became tied without a single word to say. She was shocked more than anything to be riding on the same flight next to him. Out of thousands of seats on hundreds of other planes, they pick the same one. “Well, I only just sat down.” She argued, despite the undeniable evidence of her spotting him before he could spot her. “Hello, Wyatt. What are the chances of sitting next to each other, right?” Seriously, what are the chances?
