Alone Together

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I couldn’t miss it. I wouldn’t miss it. It wouldn’t do to be late. No, it simply wouldn’t do at all.

All this had been going through my head since I glanced at my Nautilus Patek Philippe wristwatch. When it told me the time was 10:40, I cursed while a depressing realisation dawned on me. The monitor displaying the Geneva Airport’s flight departure times wasn’t early—I was late. This sort of lapse rarely ever happened to me. My job all but demanded timeliness, over and again; thus, understanding different time zones was something that I took considerable pride in. But this little upheaval threw me off my mental balance. Worse yet, my lateness was leaving me with an appalling lack of leverage.

The white letters in front of me silently advised that boarding had begun for Flight SWA 1528 at Gate A2—my flight. I felt anger turn to heat that rose inside my old, weary bones as I looked between the suitcase at my feet and the meandering queue stretching in front of the baggage disposal desks.

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