Prandi tucked her head under Jameson’s chin and played with her hair, lightly humming along to the song under her breath.They sat there for about an hour – maybe less, maybe more. Both of them lost track of time. All they knew was the endless procession of planes taking off and landing, the relentless circle of separation and reunion as tearful passengers said goodbye and hello to their loved ones. Everything was alright with the world again, and Jameson was buoyed by the peace of this certainty.

Suddenly, Prandi’s cell phone began buzzing in her carry-on bag. “Huh, I thought I’d turned this off.” She pulled back out of Jameson’s arms, her rosebud of a mouth twisting in a grimace as she saw the number of her incoming call.

A frisson of presentiment crept up Jameson’s spine. “Um, so who is it?” he asked, trying to assume a carefree voice but sounding more like a choirboy.

Prandi flipped her hair in the no-nonsense manner of hers and slammed her phone shut again with a perfunctory snap. “Oh, just my fiancé.”