I was given 16 hours to fall in and out of love with the boy in 72D.
He had the smile of truth, the eyes of wisdom, the skin of grace, and the warmth of desire.
When we introduced ourselves, he said my name as if it was his first word.
The taste of his name was rain, the sound of his voice belonged to wind, and the look on his face was nothing less than gold.
He shook my hand at our introduction, and the simple grasp was enough to make me believe that I had held this same man before.
I had never been one for consistent eye contact in intimate conversations, but 13,000 feet in the air with the intensity of this boys gaze, I didn't even blink.
He offered me his stories, so I heard. He offered me his music, so I listened. He offered me his hand, so I held.
He asked me questions most people 13,000 feet in the air wouldn't dare to. But I answered with more honesty in my mouth than I had tasted in months.
Every word that escaped my mouth, he would repeat back to me, never missing a single detail.
But him repeating these words felt like hearing them for the first time, as if they belonged to someone else.
And perhaps they did. And perhaps I left her on the plane.