Here’s the ‘full story’ xx
It ends with the long haul on the Piccadilly line. Twenty-three stops, Heathrow-bound. Hands in lap, mind adrift and wild. At each point on the line, memories dance to life: that one time when; the hilarious morning of; the night when two worlds collided. Then, a stop you hadn’t yet ventured to. A missed adventure? Probably. Too bad; it’s too late. Onward the carriage hurtles.
A handful of commuters filter out at each stop, and return above ground to their ‘another’ London day. I have no another days remaining; the visa expiry in my passport is uncompromisingly stamped hard and definitive, dated today.
By the last few stops, all there is left are a few suitcase-clutching travellers facing the same fate. Destination: the sky. Fast-forward and here I am – navigating my way through the labyrinth of airport walls throbbing high with emotion – to the line up. Plane after plane transcends into the night sky; leaving a trail of flickering lights muffled through black sky. Then, nothing. The engine of my plane roars. Lift off.
And suddenly, I’m gone, too.
Just like that.