She swallowed and grunted, grappling with the exhaustion that desperately wanted to pull her back into sleep. Carefully, she adjusted her head on her rolled-up overcoat, a makeshift pillow. A wave of pain and stiffness coursed through her body, the result of the cold from the airport floor seeping into her side. She felt the pressure of her duffel bag, its straps draped over her shoulders, the bag wedged between her back and the wall.

She inhaled, her breath catching midway as the faint scent of shampoo, soap and a hint of cologne filled her nostrils, sending a shiver down her spine. This was not the stale mix of air freshener, sweat and old vomit she had fallen asleep to. This unfamiliar smell was alarmingly close. The hairs on her forearm bristled and her body stiffened as her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes shot wide open.

She stared at the back of a man’s neck, brown hair peeking from under his collar. He lay on his side, his back to her, no more than thirty centimeters away.

She suppressed a shriek as she realized she was trapped between the wall and his body.

The man mumbled, and she watched in paralyzing horror as he extended his arm backward, reaching for her. He pulled at something, which she realized was a blanket, draped around both their lower legs. Her heart sank as he suddenly grabbed hold of her hipbone, pushed back his butt and snuggled into a spooning position, his lower back now against her belt buckle, his butt against her lower belly.

Still startled, she watched as his arm returned to its tucked position under his head and he continued sleeping. Slowly, the rhythmic rise and fall of his torso calmed her and her breathing gradually steadied. She shifted her focus from the man to her surroundings, carefully remaining completely still.

It was still dark outside. A short distance away, a man was sitting upright in an airport chair, asleep with his mouth agape and his neck contorted at an uncomfortable left angle. This was why, upon hearing just before midnight that her flight was cancelled, she had searched for a place on the ground to rest until the first flight at six am.

Overcome by fatigue, she had assured herself that nothing bad would happen; no robbery, no harassment; and eventually she drifted off to sleep. In that sleep, a man had settled down beside her, unnoticed and with purpose.

He stirred, sending her heart racing again. He thrust his hip forward, creating room between them. Before her mind could fully realize what was happening, he rolled onto his back, turned onto his other side, and faced her directly.

Her eyes darted to his, a primal instinct to gauge her danger. Her panicked mind slowly registered the scene. The man was gazing at her with a kindness she had never experienced before. A smile broke across his slightly tanned face, the vertical crease on his cheek from sleeping sideways crossing the laughing wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Clearing his throat, he said, “Hi, my lovely.”

She merely blinked, struggling to process the disconcerting kindness emanating from his eyes. The man did not seem to notice anything unusual.

“Shall we get up?” he asked. “Surely, there’s a café nearby that’s open now.”

She nodded and watched as he stood up. After folding the blanket, he extended his hand and gently pulled her to her feet.

She knew she should walk away now, maybe even run. This was a mistake; he must have confused her with someone else. Was it a prank? Or perhaps, and her heart softened as the thought settled in, he was unwell and disoriented?

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing for her to follow. His voice drew her in like a siren’s song. Yet, like the sailors in fairy tales, she couldn’t tell if she was being lured towards something beautiful or towards a treacherous cliff leading to certain doom.

He spotted a café, and extended his arm to her, inviting her to walk beside him. Her feet moved on their own.

As she walked alongside him, still hesitant, she found it strange how her body fit perfectly next to him; like a skewed puzzle piece that unexpectedly completed a picture. He murmured a song, his steps sure and confident, with no doubt about where he was going, and most alarmingly, no doubt about the woman beside him.

At the coffee shop he pulled out a chair for her. “So, lovely, what would you like to drink?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came. He laughed softly, gently rubbing her back and resting his hand between her shoulders. The warmth of his hand radiated right through her, caressing her heart directly. Her shoulders fell as if on cue.

“Is your voice still asleep?”

She turned to face him, clearing her throat, she replied, “Yes, it is,” her smile finally breaking through. “I’ll have black coffee.”

Her voice left him unfazed; there was no telltale sign that he didn’t recognize it.

She watched him at the counter, placing an order and chatting with the cashier. Well-dressed, his slacks remarkably unwrinkled despite the hours spent on the floor. His black leather shoes looked freshly polished. Everything about him seemed normal; a man, of about her age, at the airport, ordering coffee for himself….and a completely unknown woman.

They sipped their coffees in silence, observing passengers walking by as the airport gradually returned to its usual buzz, with announcements echoing in the background. Occasionally, she glanced at him; he appeared untethered, completely at ease.

He met her gaze. “Once we’re checked in at the hotel, we should take a walk, don’t you think? Get some movement?”

“Yes, we should,” she replied, the words spilling out uncontrollably.

“We can check out some restaurants near the hotel for dinner,” he continued. “I am eager to know if the food is as good as people say.”

She flinched as the airport announcer’s voice grabbed her attention.

“Your attention please. This is the boarding call for Ms. Amber Nicholias. Please proceed to gate number forty-eight.”

She looked at his face; it was unmoved. He didn’t recognize her name.

She should get up, catch her flight.

She glanced at him, humming softly, relishing the simple pleasure of sitting together. He wanted to go for an afternoon stroll with her, explore an unknown city, perhaps in another country. They would walk in a natural tandem, just as they had during their brief walk at the airport. They’d discover new restaurants and, later that evening, enjoy dinner together.

“We repeat, this is the boarding call for Ms. Amber Nicholias. Please proceed to gate forty-eight immediately.”

She should get up, catch her flight.

She didn’t know him, nor did she have a ticket for wherever he assumed they were headed together. He cupped her hand that lay on the table. His grip felt sturdy and secure, as if he could hold her completely with undeniable certainty, no matter what might happen.

She should get up, catch her flight.

“This is the final boarding call for Ms. Amber Nicholias. Please proceed to gate forty-eight immediately.”



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