The three gray typing dots finally appeared at the bottom of the screen.

My phone buzzed in my palm.

Vanessa hadn’t written a single word in response.

She had simply reacted to my apology with a bright red, patronizing heart emoji.

Ethan smiled in relief.

The automatic doors at the arrivals terminal slid open on Wednesday afternoon, letting in a blast of hot exhaust fumes.

I stood near the oversized baggage carousel watching the electronic arrivals board flicker with red text.

The rubber belt hummed and squealed as black suitcases tumbled down the metal chute.