Terminal Four
There was no third adult’s anything.
Where were they going.
The suitcase had a tag on it that I could not read.
Why was she asleep on a floor at eight in the morning in an international terminal, rather than in a hotel, or at a gate, or anywhere that a person with somewhere to be is at eight in the morning.
And that is the question I could not answer, and it is the one that finally moved my feet, and it is the one I have gone back to more than any other.
Because I had a private car booked and a corporate rate at the Langham and a briefcase with a deal in it, and thirty feet away a woman I had loved was asleep on a marble floor with two children, and the reason I had not moved for nine minutes was that I was gathering information.
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