Strangers Waiting for the Plane

“My friend, we will be here awhile.”  A voice travels to my ear.

I have no friends here.   I’m in lay-over purgatory.  I turn to see a bright smiling face.   A rather Foriegn face but charming British accent. 

“I’m sorry… I was starting at people and didn’t realize who you were talking to.  They told me four hours ago, this flight is the most timely they run.   Travel is hell.” I try to figure the nice man out.  

We simply don’t act this way at home.  My God, he could be a terrorist, or a religious nut, or run a foreign money scam.   The news of full of these types in other countries. 

“Travel is like a present.   You think you know what will be inside.   Then like a flower it opens… simply amazing what happens.   We seldom believe what we know not.” His hands gesture something popping up out of box.   I hate to fly alone. You seem much better than most here.  Calm to the outside.  At least.”

I turn to catalog his features. Dark eyes,  softly set amongst richly tan skin.   Dark hair well controlled at ear length with a bushy mustache.  His crisp cotton shirt  almost glows white.  He has one small carry on bag.  

“I returning from finding a brother who thinks the world is a grand adventure.  He found simple things aren’t simple in other places. I’ll be the first to tell him how wrong he is…” My voice falters.   Why am I telling a stranger this?

“He is good to have you.  Someone to go when he needs. I have to deliver things to family.   I’m the only one who has the time.” His dark eyes lock into me. “I will find other things.  Make this a real trip for me.”

“Oh.  You been to the States before?” My mind erupts.  A real live terrorist.   There’s a bomb not even five feet away from me.

“No. The place scares me.  Kilometers to travel.  We do not drive like that.   But must see something.  When I deliver this, I am then free. Free to travel.” His smile is truly a master weapon. 

I freeze.   What dies one say you a mad killer. 

“Where are you going?  I have traveled a bit.” I fake friendliness.   My eyes look for security personnel.   

“You are tense all of a sudden.   I will be in Seattle.  We are on the same flight.  I didn’t mean to…. cause you any discomfort.  Strangers sometimes want their space.”  He smiles that damn friendly smile. 

“I’m sorry.   I’m a bit tired.   Didn’t mean to push you away. ”  My lies get deeper.  

He sits foward and speaks  “I’ll return.”

I watch him walk over to a security person bag in tow.  They smile and talk.   The smiles disappear. They both look my way. 

I’m no terrorist! 
Written as part of a challenge called Tale Weaver https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1436456071