I Wrote This For You

THE ARRIVALS LOUNGE
A plane landed and a man in a scruffy coat leaned forward and
wondered if this was the one. People got off and walked into the
large, gleaming white terminal, where they were either met by
others (some in tears but everyone smiling) or if no one was
there to greet them, they looked around, shrugged, sat down in
one of the long rows of aluminum chairs and either listened to
music or read a book or just stared off into the distance in the
kind of shell shock that normally comes from long distance
travel. Several made phone calls. One, for whatever strange
reason, tried to go back through the gate, to get back on the
plane. Security, gently, held him at bay.
The old man had seen it all before but he didn’t mind waiting.
He’d gotten quite good at it. There were exactly 128 chairs in
terminal D. The roof had exactly 864 crisscrossing tiles. The
planes landed every 11 hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds. He
knew. He’d had enough time to count. He read the paper. It was
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