Airways

salt lake

They seem too intimate for such an old couple, his hand supine on the bar stool, her fingers tickling the palm. Too rapt for such an aged romance, too public, in an airport pub. His laughter, as though hearing her tease for the first time. Her eyes, too bright for so many lines. I watch and wonder, seeing myself, ourselves, in them. I watch, await the public display. The waiter interrupts, the man lays down a credit card. Then she, the same, pointing to an item. The waiter returns with separate portfolios. He looks at her long before they part; she down the moving walkway to Gate B. He, towards Gate C. She turns once, but only in profile.