Stranger of JFK airport

(Warning: contains words like blood and suffocate.)

Every morning at 9:45, he was at the airport, sitting in the lobby, always in the same place, faithful to his writer's look, his gray shirt, his black sneakers and pants. In his eyes, the same look, in his silence, the same sadness. Nothing had changed. 

But one day, a detail changed, his shirt was no longer gray but white. 

The day before, he had directed his gaze once to the 18th place on the right, for 15 seconds.  

The day of the change, 30 seconds before going home, he glanced again at the same place. 

Each day, it was the same scenario, the same white shirt, and always this glance towards this famous place out of sight. 

Another day two major details changed. He moved to the 15th place, and his silence contained more hope than sadness. 

Until then, everything was vague, nothing explained all his changes concretely, except his growing interest in the 18th place, which welcomed every day a different person who had nothing in common. 

Everything made sense the day his eyes were frozen for more than 60 seconds on the bottom of the mythical square. 

Something was marked in red. 

It read " I'm sorry, I have to go. I know I'm taking your heart away, but I'll give it back to you the day we meet again in the same place. "

We could decipher now that the first change was due to an omen of this famous day. The second and the third one too. 

The stronger the omens, the more the details changed and the closer they got to the day and the 18th place.

*

Sitting in the lobby in the far corner of JFK Airport, Harry fidgeted with his fingers, looking out over the crowd. 

A few minutes later, he glanced at his watch. Disgusted, he looked like he had missed something. 

On his way home, he passed one of the airport employees who asked him with a familiar look " Is it still not the right day ? " He smiled slightly and nodded shyly to confirm his thoughts. 

In his apartment, as usual, he took time to check the messages on his answering machine. Concentrated, he seemed to want to catch a particular voice. At the end of the messages, he was disappointed despite the fact that his mother was coming to visit him during the week. 

Later in the week, he returned from the station after his mother's visit. In the cab, his evasive mind prevented him from quickly listening to the driver's question " Sir, which street am I turning on ? "

Suddenly, he came to his senses and answered abruptly " on the 13th. Insisted " to the right, the street at the end. "

Once at his destination, the driver asked him " I guess, it's your wife ? " He remained silent.

*

The driver persisted " It must be the children... It's not easy. I have two at home that occupy my mind all day. "

Still mute, he paid him and returned. The driver, confused by his silence, started the car and drove away.

Inside, with an automatic gesture he turned on the answering machine, a message caught his attention " I have very important information for you. I would like to meet for dinner tonight at 8 o'clock. "

Excited, he ignored the rest of the messages and retrieved a notepad not far from the landline to note the time. Soon after, he was overwhelmed by an emotion between sadness and joy. 

*

Three years ago, Harry received a message from John, his agent, to meet with the publisher who would make his dream of publishing his first novel A Lonely Lover a reality. He was to meet him at a conference in Nashville. 

The night before the conference, he spent all night rechecking and reworking his manuscript. This exercise exhausted him. He woke up at 9 a.m. despite the insistent sound of his alarm. He had only 30 minutes to get ready and arrive at the airport in time for his 9:30 flight.

On the way, his cab had hit a traffic jam 20 minutes from the airport while his watch showed 9:15. He got out to continue on foot. After 5 minutes of walking, he found a bicycle rental store. The last time he had ridden a bike was when he was 13 years old. As the saying goes " It's like riding a bike, you never forget " . As soon as he got on it, he had a few blunders and the memory of the limbs took over immediately. 

Standing at the entrance of the airport at 9:25, he hurriedly threw the bike somewhere. And started to run with his black satchel where he had stored his manuscript. Suddenly he bumped into a lady in as much of a hurry as he was, who spilled hot coffee on his shirt. 

He didn't wait for his host to apologize before rushing to the bathroom. He was already in the terminal where he had to catch his flight, and he realized that he didn't have his briefcase anymore. He ran to the bathroom, and by the time he got back, his flight was already taking off. 

Exhausted, dejected, his body landed without his permission on one of the seats in the terminal hall where he could see the plane take off. Sitting in the 17th seat of the concourse, he was still hypnotized by the image of his greatest dream that was slipping away. 

He lowered his gaze for a sigh. He hadn't realized that the place near him had just welcomed a guest. Drowned in despair, a voice suddenly spoke to him " I know what it feels like to miss a flight. "

The sweetness of the voice touched him and gave him a shock. Everything stopped in his thoughts and nothing was more important than this magical tone. He was bewitched to such an extent that he was unable to raise his head towards his interlocutor. 

This voice added " It was for an important appointment I guess ! " She let a short moment pass, and continued " In the end it's not so bad, my grandfather said that : you always have 3 chances to get what you want in life. The next time will be the right time, don't give up. Better late than never ! "

Harry was moved. His sadness was quickly forgotten as if it had never existed. Still in the same position, he wondered if the person next to him was his guardian angel, so much so that the words impacted him. 

After this long speech, Harry still unable to put forward a word or to look at his host with his eyes, the silence invited itself. After a few seconds, he tried to raise his head with all his guts as if he was buried under a 1000 ton weight. He succeeded. 

Stunned, he saw the back of a generous figure walking away. She was dressed in a stewardess uniform with blond hair lighter than the sun, falling to her waist.

Something caught her eye. At the bottom of the 18th seat where the stranger was seated, a message was marked there in lipstick. The glow was bright as blood. Yet the only thing that mattered to Harry was the message. Nothing else. 

*

His cab pulled up at exactly 8:00 pm in front of the fanciest restaurant in Queens. Inside, he found a hand waving at him. It was indeed the private detective he had hired.

The latter started the conversation directly in the middle of the aperitif " the woman you have been looking for 3 years, died 5 years ago. She was a flight attendant. Her name was Jacky Taylor, wife of Tom Taylor. "

Harry was drenched in cold sweat, he couldn't believe it. The gulp of wine he was about to swallow was suffocating him. He was stammering and saying " so the woman who was talking to me three years ago at the airport, she was a... "

He couldn't finish his sentence, when the detective added " yes, it was a ghost without flesh and bones." He continued " she had died exactly at this place and the message written at the bottom was for her husband. "

" Now you know the truth. Better late than never ! "