Midnight Flight
The hands crept silently toward their destination; each second passed in painful slowness. I waited, silently, hoping my prayers would be answered. Finally the last second passed, the hands of the clock came together for the first time that day. It was midnight. I looked eagerly toward the hangar door. The door remained closed, single and solitary. A minute passed, then two. I was excruciatingly aware of each second that passed without interruption. Finally the door creaked open and a steady stream of people emerged. I searched, my eyes darting from face to face.
I looked at the unknown faces and their travel worn clothes. It was a wave of assorted colors and wrinkled cloth. But I looked in vain. There were no familiar faces, no one to come running toward me. I waited. I waited until the last passenger trudged off the plane, wearily carrying his suitcases. And yet my hope lingered on. I waited until, one by one, the suitcases were unloaded. An ordinary flood of dull reds, greens, and blues. The last piece of luggage was carted off the plane, and the white giant slowly began to move toward its hangar, the small lights on the wings illuminating the pavement. It moved inches at a time, and as it disappeared into the night, my heart sank.
I looked at the clock; it was nearly one. My mind wandered, and I remembered when it was midnight, just an hour before, but now it seemed like decades. I had been so sure that she would come. But she did not. And now I cried bitter tears of regret, not only for myself, but for the relationship I had destroyed.
At midnight, my life was changed.
At midnight, my hopes were shattered.
At midnight, my heart was broken.
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