The Line

“…those big brown eyes that could turn the most fierce atheist into a Christian.”

I saw her on the line in an airport, and I just couldn’t keep my eyes away from her, she was just stunning. A red shirt with a square pattern, a pair of jeans with boots as high as her knee, all these clothes covering a delicate skin, her face was just beautiful, with a tiny nose, pale lips and some freckles. She was jaw-dropping, while I was doing the line I tried to know more about her Where was she from? What was her name? But I didn’t succeed. I’m sure she noticed my interest, but either she disliked me, or she didn’t have time to speak. Once she left the line, I thought that would be the last time I would see her -probably- ever in my life, but no, her seat was just in front of mine on the airplane, she was accompanied by a senior man who I believe was her grandfather. They both had a red passport, but I couldn’t see where was it from. She sat on the window seat, and throughout the three-hour-long flight, I could see for a couple of seconds her eyes, those big brown eyes that could turn the most fierce atheist into a Christian. I couldn’t listen to her voice as much as I would like to, but when I did, it felt like the most charming of voices, one of those voices that can read the phonebook and still sound profoundly moving. She was less than two feet away from me, and I wasn’t able to say a single word. The hours with nothing but a plane seat between us and I could n’t tell. What would a simple “hello” do? She was going to Ecuador or some other country in South America, and I was going home, could something come out from this? Even if we didn’t say a word to each other throughout the flight, we said everything with our bodies; nothing could ever work out, different countries, different cultures but the same heartbeats. Once the plane landed, I gave her and her grandfather my place in the line to exit the aircraft; we met at a line, and we were separated at another one.

© Gabriel Berm