Airports

Two friends in a cafe talk.

For a moment they allowed the bustle of the cafe to sit in between the seconds of uninitiated conversation lingering in their company. 

It was..comfortable. That's what she always liked about hanging out with Shehan. Chatter occurred because it had to, not out of obligation. If the hours slipped by with neither of them uttering a word to eachother, it was okay. 

Shruthi peered through the rim of her mug as she took a sip of coffee, stealing a glance at him as she did. 

He was staring intently forward right past her. Her eyes followed the direction of his gaze and landed at a table situated in a secluded corner of the room. There were two people at the table, hands intertwined and  talking away. There was a singular rose laid down on top of a card. 

Shruthi turned back to Shehan.

"Is it a first date, do you think?" she asked casually.

He chuckled. "Nah. I think they've been going out..for a month at least. This feels more like a "I'm in love with you" moment"

She took another sip.

"Yeah?"

He assumes a voice, "_Lately all I think about is you. I can't get you out of my mind. You are the muse to my poetry._ 

He pauses.

"That kinda thing"

She allows a little smile.

"Someone sounds a tad bitter"

He shrugged.

"Must be the coffee”

Shruthi sighed.

"You know. When Michael broke up with me, he said I was too independant to be in a relationship. And for the longest time I believed that. But lately I've realised that- yes I am independent. But at the same time it would be nice to come home to somebody . Even if their paint is peeling off a little and there are cracks in the windows..it's mine" 

Shehan leaned closer and offered her his hand. She squeezed it. 

"I hear you," He said. 

"Hmmm," she said, "and yet I'm sensing a 'but' in there"

He laughed, "Maybe”

"Alright then, my child. Go on. Give voice to your thoughts" 

"It's like. I don't know man. You reckon it's in the cards for people like us?"

"_People like us?_"

"Yeah. We are airports"

"What ?”

"You want somebody to be your home. And somebody wants you to be their home. But in reality we are own houses letting people in and making *them* feel at home. We make them feel welcome, pour them a cup of tea and tell them to stay a while -for as long as they like- and they invite us to do the same."

"I like that analogy. So you're saying we don't really find our home in other people? We just crash at other peoples spaces, for a while..hopefully forever ? And they crash at ours?" 

He laughed," Basically" 

"So why are we airports?”

"Because we- you and I- don't even want to stay with ourselves. We are on this perpetual quest to fly to the next version of ourselves"

He places his hand upon his heart, "So there's nobody here for long enough to just let somebody in and have them stay you know? People walk in and they find an empty room and they dont know when we are coming back”

She sighed, "And then they leave”

"But we are airports," he reiterated almost as if she lost the point. 

"Yes?"

"Which means that we still land even if its for a while. And in transit we can meet for a cup of coffee. Or two.”