There I sat again, waiting. The room was a whirl of activity. Left and right, I could see people waiting. One by one, everyone of them was finding their somebody.
I kept sitting in the corner. I was used to this. I’d been here before.
The flight must have landed some fifteen minutes ago. I wondered if today finally I’d cross paths with opportunity. I kept looking at the door, hoping. For the umpteenth time I hoped.
The seconds hand on the clock danced her merry dance. Fate had given me the slip again, it seemed. The heaviness in my heart grew more prominent.
It hadn’t worked in my favor in the past, the hoping. It almost scared me now, the fear of not getting what I hoped for. I’d always shown up in the waiting room, time and again, waiting for my turn. But my name was never called out.
Should I leave? Maybe I shouldn’t have come in today. The hope needed to die someday. It would force me time and again to show up. I’d be told of another flight coming in and my dumb heart would start beating fast. My mind would put its foot down. Not again, not this time. But the heart would rant and cry until the mind gave in.
I got up. It was time I left. The waiting room was empty now.
No, wait, there was another person sitting in the corner across the room. Legs thrown out casually, staring at me for some reason. Something about him fascinated me. The stupid heart paced up. I could feel hope waking up.
I maintained eye contact for a minute. He made as if to get up and come across.
I looked away and walked out.
I’d done enough hoping for today.