She was stood at the arrivals gate, her dark hair streaming behind her, her pale face flushed with the cold. I didn’t know her then. I wonder do I even know her now.
Gareth Thompson. That’s my name. I walked through to arrivals in jeans and a hoodie. Black duffel bag in hand, I walked leisurely. No-one was meeting me, I was going to pick up some car and drive out of here. I was getting away from it all, heading away up the mountains skiing, someone had remarked it weird that I was going all alone, but there you have it. I don’t really give a crap.
But it didn’t go to plan. She was there, waiting. Waving at me enthusiastically. At first, obviously, I thought she was waving to her boyfriend or whoever who must have been coming up behind me. I kept on walking, wondering where I’d get a car without having pre-booked, unorganised me as ever. But she didn’t go hug some guy behind me. She threw her arms around my waist, and tucked her head in the space between my head and shoulder. I stared at her, taken aback, looking shocked at this pretty girl who had decided I was some long-lost friend or something.
Her face had lit-up, and she whispered “I’m so glad you’re home Mat, I’ve missed you more than you can know”, right into my ear, her hot breath tickling me. I stepped back from this girl, and she must have read the confused what-is-she-doing look on my face. She stepped back.