Everything is in a bit of a haze, a bit of a fog. Tears sting my eyes, but I’m trying not to notice. I blink them back, and focus on what’s going on.

In the background, we can hear the announcements going on—“Boarding for flight 2544 will begin in fifteen minutes.” “Would passenger Robert Amberg report to security, please?”

People are passing by us on all sides. Some brush past us, some politely sidestep. Either way, I don’t care. And the tears are coming now. Falling fast and free, there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop them. She’s crying too, and we just stand there, clutching each other as though for the last time.

She reaches into her purse, pulls something out. A pointe shoe—the one she danced on in Nutcracker. I take it, the smooth satin cool in my hand.

This is where we part. I go to the terminal, she goes to the door. Both of us look over our shoulders, wave. She grows smaller and smaller, until she is gone, gone into the haze of people, and there’s nothing left except this ballet shoe.