February 16, 2016:
Red hair, straight; teal dress; lithe and lovely. Texting in the black chairs. I sit near but not close, hoping for a glance and smile. But she's off to board her plane.
Middle-aged men with gray hair and jelly bellies, everything I refuse to ever become. It's that time of life when one must ripen into the sit-ups king.
Beauty in summer dress, bra strap showing. Looks up both curious and confused, unclear why your author chooses the empty seat row behind her. He chooses it for its emptiness, but that could be unclear to nervous beauties. Next I glance up, she's gone.