Sarah might find a way to call me from Gatwick in a moment. I’m still awake, perhaps waiting patiently for the chance that she would call. I’ve been reading about magic wielding pirates until my eyes burned. I saw a friend’s band play. Home again, I drank free beer and inhaled the sweet air of television — but there has been no real escape from that twisting in my chest. All day it seemed like she wasn’t really leaving. All week I just went to work and spent my off hours with her like we had months before she would wing away.
It just didn’t sink in until I was almost to my car — or maybe when I was watching her in line with her passport and boarding pass in hand. Just ten feet, but thousands of miles.