There I am
standing
at the check-in counter
alone
tears running down
my distraught
sun-burnt
face.
–
There she is standing tall
at five feet 2 inches
reminding me
with her unsympathetic smile
that my overpriced
return ticket
was scheduled
not for today
in
two short hours
but
thirty one days
away from today
seven hundred and forty four hours
to be exact.
–
There she is pulling out a scrap of paper
torn around the edges
she scribbles
a number
and directs me
to the end of the hall
A lonely phone
sits
bathed in salt
from the mistaken
travelers
who have come before.
–
There I am pushing the numbers
from the paper
hoping to buy
one
more
return
plane journey
home
the sound
of the fax machine
screeches in my ear
I realize the trick
I look back to the counter
She is gone
the paper ploy
with the false number
perfect
for her disappearance act.
–
So there I am
looking around
at the under developed
Yangon airport
like a mouse
caught
in the
rusty spring
of a
trap.
Stuck.
Oh my gosh! We need a sequel! What happened? Did you have to stay a whole month longer?
Ha! Good idea. A sequel you shall get!
I can only imagine the frustration you must have felt! Alone…in a foreign country…no way home…I would have cried, too. Probably a lot more than you did. Sorry Shags! Love you!
I love your stories x
Thanks Jaki!