Miss Anderson and Miss Marshall, please make your way to Gate 17 in the West Wing.  I glanced at Bryn with half an eyebrow raised in panic. I could feel it, building like an unstoppable snowball in the pit of my stomach. I cannot concentrate on anything else that I'm doing. The next step is my heart starting to beat harder and faster, adrenaline levels rise, my brain starting to fire out negative thoughts like a machine gun. It feels like my skin has another hot skin on the outside, like a bin bag. It moved over my body and with no intent of ever releasing me. The negative thoughts keep coming like waves on rocks.

    What?

    I grabbed my phone out of my pocket before breaking into a sprint beside Bryn who seemed equally confused and if not more panicked than I was. My phone said it was only 3:23 am and I showed Bryn by wildly waving my arms and my phone in front of her face while we ran. Her panicked expression dimmed although not by much as we continued to run through the airport. Again. 

    As we gunned towards the West Wing, we passed the waiting area and I quickly cast my eyes around although I couldn't see neither a fleck of Nick's chocolate hair or latte skin which meant either he wasn't here or I was going blind. Bryn turned around as I slowed down.

    "He's not here!" she snapped, looking around wildly for signs, "besides, we'll find him later! Just keep running!" She screamed over her shoulder as she took off running again. Her voice shook with nerves and I realised that she was probably equally frazzled as I was however, instead of her nerves jumping in the same direction like mine did, hers jumped in different emotional directions like panic, worry, fear and paranoia. I stumbled as the voice blared out of the PA systems again:

    Second call for Miss Anderson and Miss Marshall. Please make your way to Gate 17 in the West Wing. 

    Just run. Just get to the West Wing. Just get to Gate 17. I mentally yelled at myself. Bryn began to slow down and I shot her a grateful look. People had started to explore the different sectors and it was beginning to get hard trying to spot my beautiful but also rather short Latino friend in the crowds. 

    My feet skidded to a halt, a mistake I had learnt from last time. In this moment, distance was all I needed and everything keeping me from my destination although there was a small, minor issue. I had never been remotely close to the West Wing until today. I grabbed Bryn's hand, pushing through the crowds in almost a crazy desperation.

    I've never been into the West Wing I screamed, let alone Gate 17! How am I supposed to find something I've never seen? I spotted a wide, black and flashing sign and I almost dropped to the floor with relief. I glanced over at Bryn who looked the same. There was a tenseness to her muscles that makes her more like a mannequin than a woman of flesh and bone. I could see in her eyes how much she wanted to melt onto the soft foam of a mattress, wrapped in eider-down, and drift into the world of dreams. Yet our brains were a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organise the chaos in our lives and the airport which was a lot easier said than done. 

    We reached the boards, breaths being ripped out of our mouths in an attempt to regain them at twice the speed we were breathing them out. Bryn moved to the right, looking for the gates while I studied the outline of the airport structure. It seemed that the East Wing was for gates 1 to 10 and 21 to 30 while the South Wing was for shops and restaurants, the North Wing was for the entrance and the waiting area connected all the sections together. 

    The waiting area was vast quite like the sea. I suddenly felt a surge of anxiety on the thought of trying to manoeuvre through it. I couldn't even see the end of the one row of chairs let alone the entrance to the West Wing. Thankfully, Bryn and I's combined bulk made it hard to be separated although we got pushed around a lot. Each person in the crowd moved as if unseeing hands dragged them this way and that, pulling their eyes to one thing and then another. They respond in predictable ways, each of them with a goal to achieve for the day. But underneath that is free will, the ability to truly choose their own path.

    I had never been claustrophobic before, but in that almighty swell of humanity I felt the panic rise in my chest. When they moved I had to also and if my feet failed to keep up I risked being trampled underfoot. Even in the bitter air-conditioned cold I felt the warmth of all those bodies pressing in. People were gaunt and serious, there was hardly a single utterance in the thousands strong throng, save a few frightened yelps. There was nothing for it but to move with the crowd. I could smell them too, the people I mean, an unholy agglomeration of perfumes, body odour and over-applied cologne. I felt someone tug my bag and Bryn's head turned around upon being stopped, her lips curling in distaste before a blush covered her delicate cheeks. 

    "Hello, ladies," an older man smiled kindly, "but I must talk to you, especially you, Miss," he continued, gesturing to me,  "my name is Christopher Bradley, if you were wondering." I could see by Bryn's widening eyes that she was about to tell this man that wondering about who he claimed to be was the last thing on her mind and I quickly tugged her arm, my head shaking slightly. She sighed, catching on quickly. Turning back to Christopher, I realised he was beckoning us towards the small water fountain in the middle of the waiting area. He motioned for us to sit down beside him and I could see we would simply be wasting time and energy by refusing. Besides, the crowds were only growing bigger.

    "You dwell rather heavily on the past don't you,"  he started suddenly, watching the crowds go by, his eyes analysing everything. My brain stuttered for a moment and my eyes take in more light than I expected, every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts catch up to his sudden question. It had certainly not been what I was expecting.

    "I guess you could say that," I replied uncomfortably, not particularly liking where this conversation was going. Bryn was next to me, vibrating with panic and rage that this man had just stopped us to analyse my broken down past, however she didn't say anything.

    "Do you want to move on?" He asked, still not looking at me. I looked at him closer. The way his back was held a little higher than most people's and the way he didn't fiddle with his hands or his moustache. He seemed perfectly at peace with who he was and the environment he lived in. A type of wisdom flowed from him yet I couldn't say how he got it or how it had chosen him. So I sat and I listened to what he had to say in hopes of understanding it.

    "Yes," I replied, "badly. I want to move on very badly." He continued to survey the crowds, watching the children run by and their parents frantically trying to corral them.

    "Just think of the sunset, Miss Marshall," he said calmly. I shot a glance at him, suddenly unnerved.

    "How did you know my name?" Cold sweat was probably glistening on my furrowed brow at this point. My hands were clasped tightly in front of my stomach and I constantly fiddled with my knuckles, weaving my fingers in and out of each other. The way he spoke as if we were familiars was more unnerving than I wanted to let on although Bryn noticed and lay a hand on my shoulder though she looked just as interested to what he had to say as I was. Whatever fear or anxiety I felt was nothing to the curiosity I felt as well.

    "Think of sunsets," Christopher urged, ignoring my previous question with such an intensity I almost fell into the fountain, "Miss Marshall, I implore you, think of sunsets. They come at the end of the day, bringing a type of darkness that lives during the night and evening every single day. The darkness can consume you to the point where you are unaware whether what classifies as good or bad but the sun always rises in the morning too. It rises and signifies a new day and a new chance to live on. You look like a writer," he said suddenly. I nodded jerkily. I had no idea where this was going, "well let me tell you something," he said gently, "a semicolon is used when someone decides they could have ended a sentence but decided to keep going despite everything. Be the semicolon, Miss Marshall, keep working towards your goal even if the world thinks you should stop. Don't give up; you never know how much potential there could be in the next line. Sometimes to move on, you need to merge your old life and your future because dwelling on what is left and what you can no longer change will do nothing for you but keep you in a place of self ruin."

    He stood up suddenly and I looked at him, my eyes wide. Pulling a coin out of his pocket, he flipped it into the water where it lay with other shining and shimmering circles. Then, he moved into the crowds, making his way towards the South Wing, leaving me clueless with his indecipherable words:

    The sun always rises in the morning too. It rises and signifies a new day and a new chance to live on. 

    I looked at Bryn who looked just as confused as I felt. Was I supposed to know what that meant? If not, how was I supposed to figure it out? I looked around, half hoping for a sunset pamphlet somewhere as if that would help me. Shaking my head, I grabbed Bryn's hand again, forcing our way through the crowds who seemed annoyed at our rather rude entrance. I didn't really focus on that, instead trying to concentrate on ridding my thoughts of indecipherable poems and quotes. I noticed the entrance to the West Wing and I started to run, Bryn hot on my heels. 

    It suddenly occurred to me why I had never been in the West Wing before. I dully remembered that The West Wing was usually reserved for the big time first class flyers; it was somewhere Bryn and I had never been before and somewhere we would probably never get to unless we married a world famous pilot or model.

    The West Wing had architecture the rest of the urban towns and cities could only dream of. The ceiling was domed higher than any cathedral and made of the most beautiful glass. The walkways flowed like tributaries to the main rivers of people, not a sharp angle to be seen. It smelt like heaven in a hand-basket and the floor shone like the surface of a lake at sunrise. In the background is music to soothe, gentle flowing notes to take the flyer's cares far away. In a world so chaotic it is order. In a world of pollution and desecration it is clean perfection in bubble-wrap. Bryn and I shared a look of confusion and of panic.

    Timidly, we walked through the large and very clean halls until we reached Gate 17 which stood proudly on the left side of the wing. I looked up, suddenly feeling short. It had a large entrance with beautiful, tall, spiral columns. The floor was tiled in fine marble, which made every step echo. A chandelier made rainbow colours dance across the luxurious lobby. Embroidered silk sofas surrounded a large, flat-screen television. The twin doors that led into the lobby were a pristine white with golden handles. The desk was made of amber-coloured wood and a granite top. Exquisite paintings hung from the rich, cream walls. Even the door hinges were engraved with swirls and elegant designs. People wandered around and I shared a look with Bryn. What was this?

    I looked around curiously while Bryn looked around with a more cautious air as if she still didn't really understand why we had been called here. I nudged her, seeing a beautiful style of calligraphic letters near the ceiling written in gold. Klarissi Spa. I frowned. It seemed familiar although it shouldn't have seeing as I would have known if I had ever stepped foot in a literal beach paradise in the of the London Airport.

    Bryn seemed to have noticed something I hadn't for she started walking determinedly towards the front desk in a way I definitely would not have wanted to intervene in if she was in a mood. The lady at the desk looked up as we approached; her teeth glinted in the warm lights as she smiled at us. She stood up and gestured for us to follow.

    "I'm assuming you're Miss Anderson and Miss Marshall," she said calmly, throwing the words over her shoulder as she navigated her way through the beach like paradise. I nodded until I realised she wouldn't have seen it seeing as she was leading the way into what seemed to be a locker room up ahead.

    "That's right," Bryn said quickly, realising we hadn't confirmed nor denied this, "that's us." The woman turned around, gesturing inside.

    "My name is Veronica. I'll be assisting you today," she said, "please place all your belongings in this storage compartment. You'll find a spare change of clothes in there waiting for you. After you've changed, please make your way through the light grey door to your right. I'll be waiting for you on the other side." With that, Veronica turned and left us. Bryn and I shared a look, half confused and half amused. 

    After getting changed, Bryn and I walked through the light grey door, slightly fidgeting with the material of the dressing gown we had been given. Veronica treated us with courtesy even when I slipped into a tub.

    Usually the water in London was cold. It didn't matter where you went, it just was. Beaches, pools, even the shower could be cold in the morning. But the waters in the spa were lovely. They were heated and I found myself trying to get as low as I could to soak up the heat. However, I noticed Bryn constantly checking the time and getting antsy every time. I sighed. I didn't really want to leave but I also didn't want to deal with Bryn going into a panic attack every time the hands on the clock moved. I grabbed Bryn's hand, dragging her out of the water with me.

    It had been nice going to the spa, I reflected. Even if we didn't know why we were there, it had been nice. Sometimes it helped to have time to yourself where you could just think. I opened the door to my locker where I had stored my clothes. I was just about to pull out my sweater when a note fell onto the floor. I picked it up, suddenly more confused. It read:

    Enjoying your spa day, princess? No need to pay, it's my treat x

    I looked at the note half in horror and half in a way that Bryn would have described as "your double chin face". I quickly shoved my clothes on, leaving a protesting Bryn behind me.

    "Hey!" She yelled at me, "where do you think you're going-" I ducked as I heard the familiar sound of a shoe being thrown at me, "-without me!" I threw it back with equal force, hitting her square on the head. I cursed, running back.

    "First, you shouldn't throw things at me when you know I can throw better," I chided, "secondly, look at this." I gave Bryn the note and her eyes widened. She started dressing with a fierce intensity and speed I had barely blinked before she was dragging me out of the spa. We thanked Veronica hurriedly before I crashed into someone. 

    "Ouch," I drew a breath in sharply upon impact. I looked up, "I'm sor-", the words died in my mouth as I saw a familiar pair of worried sepia eyes. 

    "I think I'm the one who owes you an apology," Nick replied, "I'm so sorry for zoning out a while ago. And I'm sorry for hurting you." I glanced at Bryn who had gone very quiet beside me. 

    "It's all good, Nick," I smiled, the words stinging my heart slightly, "it's honestly no biggie. Although, you could have given me your number so I could have called you instead of wandering around this airport looking for you." I watched Nick's sadder, gloomy eyes brighten slightly at that. I noticed a small spark and I wondered if I had any part in making his shine like that. 

    "I actually gave Bryn my number," he said, giving Bryn a pointed look. Bryn shrugged at me when I turned around, eyebrows wiggling.

    "Don't give me that," she sighed, pushing me away as I laughed, "and you!" she huffed, "you're no better! I messaged you! I called you! I even told you I was going after her! And what do you do? Ignore my calls!" Nick started to protest, bringing out his phone as if to prove a point then saw his lock screen and decided against it. Bryn mimicked the pointed look he had just given her. A silence descended on us and I tried to break it.

    "How did you know where we were if Bryn didn't tell you?" I asked in confusion. At that, Nick perked up, moving to my left before walking forwards. Bryn and I hurried to catch up.

    "I own that spa," he said casually. I stopped walking, shooting Bryn another look, "Klarissi Spa? Klarissa and Nicolai Spa. You might have noticed it on the columns," he said, "or not," he added dryly, catching my shocked look at Bryn, "but I did get Veronica to call you on the intercom," he added cheekily, shooting me a devilish grin that melted me a little on the inside. 

    "Why did you call us?" Bryn cut in, confused. I felt my heart speed up and my breath hitch as Nick casually draped an arm around my shoulders, his fingers knotting in my hair. Bryn glanced at him as if she didn't understand what he was doing. I tried to control the colour in my cheeks as he continued to walk as if this wasn't weird at all.

    "Because-" Nick was about to say something else when an announcement silenced him.

    Passengers for the flight from London to Berlin, Germany through Qantas Airlines please make your way to Gate 26 in the East Wing. The gates will only be open for thirty minutes for passengers to board. Again, passengers flying from London to Berlin through Qantas Airlines, please proceed to Gate 26 in the East Wing. Thank you very much and have a good flight.

    "-of that." He finished. Bryn and I tried to keep up as he weaved through the crowds of people professionally. Upon seeing the line up ahead, we started walking slower before we took our place at the end of the line.

    "What seat are you guys in?" Nick asked us. Bryn took the tickets out of her handbag, handing me one which I promptly started folding. A habit I had acquired through school.

    "Economy, E19 and 20," she said. I saw a flicker of disappointment? flash through Nick's eyes, "I take it you're in first class," Bryn added, catching his expression. He nodded. 

    "Oh, princess, here's my number by the way. I may not see you again but it'd be cool to talk every once in a while," he said while he scribbled down his number on a napkin before handing it to me. I punched his number into my phone and nodded, "also," he added suddenly, "you look beautiful, Kennedi." His smile was contagious as Bryn smiled in the same way. 

    I looked outside the window where Bryn's gaze was focused. I looked at the sun beginning to peek through the lines of trees. It brought on Christopher's words. 

    The sun always rises in the morning too. It rises and signifies a new day and a new chance to live on. 

    And he was right. Maybe I did need to rise up again for a new chance at love and I needed to live on. Kienai, the man of my dreams; maybe it was time to let him go. Glancing towards Bryn who smiled at me and then shooting a secret look at Nick who was basking in the pale light filtering in through the window turned to smile at me. I watched the light highlight and accentuate every single part of his face and I watched the light turn him into something that looked too heavenly to be real.

    I knew that what I had with Kienai wouldn't be something I could replicate, now or in any other lifetime but I do know that maybe I can love him but let him go. And maybe even move onto someone new.

    Someone who would buy a small, lemon tart for a girl in a small bakery in the South Wing at 2 am.