Poet and Lover
He walked among others, but not with them. Through the interminable corridors and vaulted walkways of the airport at Dubai. It was much larger than he had imagined it would be.
He wore a brown jacket of outdated cut, paired with neat blue jeans. He hunched his shoulders, his expression reserved. Approaching a food counter, he bought a sandwich and a bottle of water. Two hours delayed. He would need sustenance. He shifted the weight of his backpack and tucked his violin case under his arm. He looked down at it as he moved off. There lay the justification of his existence. The object which separated him out from other men and made him a poet, a lover, even a god. Or perhaps just a man worthy of living. He fingered it gently. Then he stepped onto the travelator towards his departure gate.
* * *
Confidence. That was what defined Julie’s step and look – confidence and a taste of Spring. Tall and buoyant in a thin white floral dress, whose panels separated at the knees and swirled carelessly round her legs.
She looked about her as she entered the departure lounge. In a corner sat a young man conservatively dressed. Smooth skin, sandy blonde hair, eyes down. Shy. She moved towards him, her dress fluttering, and took possession of the seat beside his.
She settled herself with a little wriggle and took lipstick from a bluebell-covered canvas bag. She applied it thickly, then sent a message from her phone. At last, Julie turned towards him.
“Hi, name’s Julie.” She put out her hand. “I just flew in from Vancouver. It’s like sooooo cold there.”
He shook it hesitatingly. “Romeo.” He dropped his eyes on her tanned ankles.
“Really? Isn’t that funny? You could almost say I’m Juliet.”
She glanced over his luggage. “Where’d you just come from?”
“South Africa. Visiting family.”
“Sounds great. Hey, is that a violin? Do you play?”
His eyes kindled. He took the case into his arms. “It’s a Stradivarius. Very old.” It’s my life. He didn’t say the last words.
“WOW! Cool.” She turned away her head and wet her lips.
“Nothing sings like a Stradivarius, you know.” He seemed to have lost his shyness.
She nodded slowly, still looking away. If only.
“I can’t show you,” Romeo apologised. “Moisture in the air. Affects sound quality.”
“Of course.” She glanced through domed windows at clouds of dust which were delaying take-offs.
The crowds around them began drifting towards the gate. Julie tossed her head.
“Oh, my bag is full of trash, and nowhere to throw it away before we board!”
She smiled, crossing her legs.
“Would you? I could watch our bags.”
He hurried off in a moment, loaded with empty crisp bags and wrappers.
She turned as he left the lounge and bent over the violin case. She flicked open the catches and gently lifted the lid. Julie gasped.
It was … she looked round, bewildered … it was empty.