in the airport, below the escalators, we sat too close together on a bench. you tried to get me to play your game with the people scurrying by.

that guy's name is james. he works as a janitor at the airport and paints in his free time. he has a daughter named kara, but he only sees her twice a month on saturdays.

that woman? her name is lucia, and she moved here from costa rica two years ago. she's flying to florida to see her parents, who are proud of her for going to college. she wants to be a chemist.

but no matter how much you begged me to play, i couldn't. i saw blank, nameless faces; cliche expressions and lost identities. i couldn't even imagine where on the earth i was. how could they be real people with real lives?

and upstairs we waited in line for the metal detectors, and when the barricade was within arm's reach i leaned to let you kiss me on the head. no words from you, no tears from me, and like that i stepped back into a world where reality cries.