The mouth moves, but I hear nothing. It
reminds me of a joke my brother enjoyed when we were kids. He would mouth words
and mimic screaming in my direction as I listened to music with headphones. I
would slowly lower the volume - all the while trying to hear - until it was
off. The game would finally end with him laughing and waving me away as I
returned to the music. Somehow, it seemed funny in the moment. My eyes scan the
waiting area in search of any source of noise - any sound to return me to the
familiar. The clock tickets, nothing. The arrival of flight 170 from Newark is
announced (and displayed), nothing. A child runs past, crying, and there is
nothing. Panic attacks my body as I wipe the sweat from my brow. Their eyes
meet my eyes. The strange look on my face causes some to do a double-take. I
slowly back peddle and trip over my bag. A man approaches to offer help, but I
wave him away. My hand rests on my knee while preparing to rise. The weight of
the bag fights my arm as it is lifted. My body turns as I search for nearest
restroom. The world goes black as I make my way to the doorway. A reassuring
face waits as my eyes open. My head slowly rises as I collect my thoughts. I am
lying on the back of a cart - the cart that hit me as she tells me. The
seductive brown eyes are mesmerizing. I hang on every word before it finally
hits me, I can hear, but then she tells me I had been out for quite some time.
Was it a dream?
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