Mark was watching the never-ending landing-taking-off game standing on a safe side of a thick waiting room window. He could see the planes descending, landing and unloading; the engines switching off and people disembarking, but very little, if any of the noise from outside penetrated the transparent walls around him.
It seamed as he was waiting for this all these years. His life was full of great memories and beautiful, beautiful things, but now he knew it was all just a prelude to this. It was all just a nice dream, but he was destined to wake up, sooner or later. He thought about years of planning he did, watching another plane disappear into the blue abyss above the runaway stripes. Automatically, he looked at the monitor just above his head – 30 minutes before he can board in. He sighed impatiently. Funny, he thought, I’m waiting for this flight for years, and now half an hour feels too much. He smiled to a little red-haired girl that looked at him as though he said that aloud. Can kids read minds at that age?
Someone’s phone ranged, as Mark moved closer to the window. A plane was just landing; his silver wings reflected the noon-sunrays into the waiting room, re-painting the walls in strange mix of silver and gold for a moment.
An old man, raised his head in a brief moment of confusion as the light changed, marking the spot in The Times with his index finger. Mark looked at him and the old man smiled bashfully, before returning back to the article he was reading. I’ll never read another English newspapers, Mark thought. Never. He shivered, turning his attention back to the runaway, when he noticed that the red-haired girl was still looking at him from across the room. He returned the stare, curious and perplexed, but she did not back away. Instead, she gestured something. A phone.
– Oh, God!- Mark said, realizing that it was his phone ringing all this time. He thought he left it at home. He was not going to answer any calls, anyway. Maybe he should get rid of it now? The phone kept ringing and now a lot more people paid attention to Mark. He could feel their small bees of curiosity poking him. He exited the waiting-room hurriedly just as the flight attendance was getting in.
He cursed quietly, as people started to rise from their seats. The phone stopped ringing in the exact moment Mark took it out of his pocket. That’s it, the decision has been made for him, he thought as he was walking towards the waste basket. He paused for a second, looking at his mobile phone as if he is saying goodbye, when it ranged again. This time he could clearly see the caller ID, although he wished he didn’t. It was his son, Donald.
Mark stopped breathing for a moment, realizing what he was about to do. Somewhere in the waiting room, the passengers of his flight started boarding in.
.
.
.