At the airport

SHE

I get a message that my driver is waiting for me in front of my building. I grab my handbag and suitcase, put on my new leather travel gloves and take the elevator down to the front of the building where my new driver is waiting impatiently.

I had planned my trip earlier because of the expected strikes. Can't Paris be quiet for a while? Apparently not. I had seen on the internet that morning that striking employees had blocked the entrance to the airport, so people with suitcases had to walk a few hundred meters to the terminal on foot. I had prepared myself for that option too and took comfortable shoes.

Fortunately it didn't happen. Luck favours the prepared. :)

The airport is relatively empty. That's clear when everyone is striking on the streets of Paris. I pass through security and head straight to the lounge, where I strategically choose a seat by the stairs to the first floor. The whole wall is made of glass, therefore there is a lot of light and additionally, there is a high circulation of people.

After checking out the buffet, and lunch, I take out my book and am about to move forward a few pages. I glance around and see a man staring at me. Sure, I'm used to it, everybody looks at me all the time, usually because of my leather outfit. And I am, as always, dressed from head to toe in leather, including short leather travel gloves which complete the whole look wonderfully.

Is that why he's looking at me?

Or is it the chain strip that I bought so that I could always have my phone over my shoulder?

I open the book and start reading. I lift my head several times and the stranger's gaze is still on me.

He has a comfortable outfit. Sweatpants, t-shirt, sneakers. He could be about 45.

He’s traveling alone. In comfortable clothes. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry. He's probably changing planes and just took a long flight. He's not looking at his phone. He doesn't drink wine, just water. He doesn't read a book.

All he does is look at me.

He doesn’t pretend to be super busy. He doesn't pretend to be a bookworm or read newspapers to show his interests in the economic situation of a particular country. He is not watching the news nor an important speech by the president (whoever his president might be.) He is not on a video call with his friend complaining about the flight delay due to strikes in Paris. He is just sitting there and enjoying the present moment.

How rare.

I'm surprised by his behavior.

Where is he coming from? And where is he flying to? He's not flying to a business meeting. Or maybe he is .. who knows?

I stand up and get some champagne. He is looking at me. It is difficult to read anything in his expression. He doesn't smile or frown. His look says nothing and yet it says a lot.

I sit back down in my seat. I try to concentrate on the book. Unsuccessfully. That's probably because it’s not very interesting.

So I'll pick up the phone and start dealing with emails.

I raise my head again for a few minutes and see the mysterious man putting on his glasses to read something on his phone. Half of the flights are delayed. I guess he's checking to see if his flight is affected. I double-check mine too.

He notices me looking at him. He looks into my eyes for a long time, as if searching for something.

I'm taking the same tactic. Stone-faced.

Normally, men look away. They're intimidated, shy, or don't want to show any visible interest. They sometimes sweat and often try to hide their emotions by looking at their phone or elsewhere. Sure it helps. :)

Two weeks ago one of my followers wrote to me that he saw me in a lounge in Paris. When I asked why he didn't come and say hello he told me he was shy and didn't want to bother. Ok, fair enough, yet it is a pity. For him of course.

But this guy can stand up and come to me. It is not like I wouldn't have noticed him. He can come over and strike up a conversation. I'm sure he has a question. And I'd like to answer him. Mom always taught me, without effort there is no reward. And I am not giving anything for free.

It is time for me to move to the gate. So I slowly stand up, grab my coat, wrap the chain with my phone around my wrist and slowly head to the exit.

His eyes are following me all the time…

---

HE

My flight is delayed. I figure it has something to do with the strikes in Paris.

So I sit down in the lounge. I'd eaten on the plane, so I’m not even hungry.

I like the lounge in Paris. It's busy, but big enough. I like the big windows that give you a view of the planes outside.

Not exactly sunny weather today, but even the rain has something to it.

I'm used to rain from London.

I put my phone on charge and just watch the flow of people around me. It's changing fast. In the half hour I've been sitting here, five different people have sat next to me.

I look in front of me and notice the woman. She is looking around for a place to sit, as if it would be a life and death decision.

Finally, she sits down right in front of me. We are separated by only one table, where no one is sitting. For now.

I wonder where she's going. She's all dressed up in leather but her outfit is not vulgar. I've never seen such a look before. The leather shirt and pants look cool, casual. She elegantly takes off her short leather gloves and lays them next to her on the sofa. I am watching her movements in fascination.

I'm examining her closely. I'm trying to find something to tell me who she is. I'm watching her looking at the people around her. I look at how she puts her plate down on the little table and thanks the staff for cleaning it up. I see her taking a book from her handbag and start to read somewhere in the middle.

She notices my look. Everybody's watching her, she must be used to it. It obviously doesn’t faze her.

I wonder what she's reading. I can't see the title of the book very well because of a gentleman who just decided to sit down at the empty table between us. He takes his laptop and types on his phone at the same time. What a busy life he must have.

My eyes already hurt from watching screens all the time. I'm glad I could put it away for a while and watch this woman.

She puts the book down and looks at me. She doesn't look away, and neither do I. I am fascinated by her. Usually women look elsewhere when men are staring at them. But she doesn't. She is not intimidated. The man sitting between us decides to stand up, so the connection breaks.

I wouldn't keep looking at her if she wasn't sitting right in my view. I can't look away, I'd have to turn my head and it wouldn't be comfortable. So I look straight ahead at her.

Where is she going? She has just a handbag, no suitcase. I'm sure she checked it in. She likes to be comfortable.

I check my phone briefly to see if the departure time has changed. It hasn't, I still have over half an hour. I get some water.

I return back to my seat and our eyes meet again.

Should I come see her? Get in touch? And what would I say to her? That I like her leather outfit? That I'd like to know where she travels? And why is she wearing that chain?

What's behind all this? Her outfit, where she sat, everything is thought out. She doesn't do things by accident.

She brought the book, she likes to be prepared. Or maybe she likes reading. Even though she did eventually put it down after a few pages. Maybe because her book wasn't that interesting after all, or did I distract her that much?

I can't just stand up and talk to her. That's not appropriate.

She is getting up and about to leave…should I go see her? My legs have never been tighter. She is looking at me and I am looking at her. My legs are failing me. Now or never, it's my chance. She's turning around one more time to see if I'll go to her. And I just sit there, unable to move. Unable to find the courage and the words to impress her and not make a fool of myself. So I am just watching her walk away....

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Have you ever missed the chance talking to someone you wanted to?

• Yes, I didn't have a courage
• No, I always manage

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