Fiction: Legal Theft -- Waiting at the Airport

It had been a year to the day since he last saw her, which was about a thousand days too long. He knew that as soon as she was offered the year internship abroad that she had to take it.  He also knew that since he only worked hourly at a book store, and that since her internship was only paid in room and board and work experience that it was very unlikely that either of them would have the disposable income to fly across the pond to see each other. He knew that it was going to be tough, and it was going to be long.  But he'd done it, he'd pulled through, and now she was whisking her way through the air, coming closer and closer to him with every passing moment.

It wouldn't be so bad if he was traveling to her.  He liked it when he was traveling to her. Because there were plans to be made and things to be packed and the constant worry in the back of his mind that he'd forgotten something important. And of course the constant vigilance for stupid drivers and/or terrorist plots and/or pickpockets and/or the old woman who wants to spend the entire plane/train ride telling him about all her grandchildren in extreme detail. Those things kept him busy, and would help keep him a little bit distracted. 

But when he was waiting for her--it was torture.  He'd already cleaned the house thoroughly, including changing the sheets, even though he knew she wasn't going to believe him and would change them again anyway. He'd decided to surprise her, and gotten the stuff she put in storage to be "out of his way" back into the house and into their old positions.  He'd mowed the lawn and weeded the garden, and then because he was on a roll, he mowed and weeded for the neighbors as well. He'd changed his clothes four times, trying to remember exactly which button up shirt she had said was her favorite, and then to prevent himself from doing anything else, gotten in the car and drove to the airport.

He now sat near the baggage claim because they wouldn't let him go any further--a full three and half hours before her flight was scheduled to arrive. If a year was a thousand days too long, then three hours was at least a year too long.  He knew one thing for a fact, after all of this--if she decided to leave the country again, he would most certainly be going with her.

The first line of this story was legally stolen from my dear friend Gwen. See what she did with the line I gave her today, and see what she originally wrote for this starting line tomorrow over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/.   <3