I look back upon our time together as the taxi navigates its way to the airport. Once there, I hurriedly emerge from the vehicle and run into the building. My flight is due to depart in an hour and I still need to have my baggage checked.

I notice I'm not the only harassed one in this segment of the airport, which only heightens my sense of urgency.

My ticket has already been purchased online so it is only a matter of printing it and getting my hastily-packed bag cleared. It cannot happen fast enough.

After I attacked her I learnt that she'd left for Greece, sans bidding me farewell. I don't blame her. Her things were removed from my apartment before I could summon up the courage to apologise. It was mostly bare now, incomplete. Minimalist became misshapen isolation. I knew I had to follow her, explain, apologise, make things well again. I had barely an inkling of my reliance on her until all that I had left of her were memories.

My sun rose and set with her.

I sat on the row of conjoined metal chairs awaiting my approval to head to the departure lounge. I drummed my bitten, half painted nails against my ripped jeans impatiently and took rapid, unsteady breaths.

I began people-watching to still my nerves. I noticed slick-haired businessmen toting designer suitcases around, timepieces glinting in the artificial glare, talking decisively on the latest cellphones. Couples tearfully embracing, welcoming and wishing off their better halves. Families jubilant over their upcoming vacations. And people just like me. Those running to or away from possibility. I noted their distress effortlessly; pursed lips, tight eyes, trembling hands and messed-up hair.

One particular boy caught my attention. He kept his forest green eyes transfixed on me. I dared not look away. He had windswept sandy-coloured hair and scars lining his every visible, tanned inch. He wore a black bomber jacket and dirty cargo pants. He held himself with an intensity evident in his reckless abandon I had only ever seen in myself. I was intrigued by this wild boy, raised by foxes, just like me.

Through our mutually assured destruction we remained watchful of each other.

Our ties were we eventually severed by the unabashed ecstasy of a thirty-something couple, at last returning to each other. He lifted her up and spun her about in a circle. She looked at him how my love used to look at me. He looked at her the way one looks at one's god. They spoke avidly of their time apart and joy at being reunited. They at last shared a soft, lingering kiss before taking hold of each other's hands and walking off to baggage claim.

Airports have seen truer loves than church halls.

At last I am granted leave from the anticipatory lounge. I sprint towards the terminal from where I'll be able to board the plane.

Inside the capsule I feel the walls and floor vibrate with each movement of the nearby aeroplanes. The rubbery floor grips my bedraggled shoes, the chair is cold and stiff beneath me. There is a wall-mounted television that none of the soon-to-be passengers watch. We're all acutely aware of our nerves, the room crackles and sparks with the tension, anticipation and excitement of the people heading to Greece at 7PM on a Saturday.

Finally, we are called to board our flight.