nameless, looking into my eyes as I watched him get dressed; as he ran the leather of his belt through the loops, one by one, not in any more hurry than when I had watched him take it off, pants tight enough not to need the belt with the big, big buckle.
I smiled back,
lifting the back of my hair hooking the clasp of the silver necklace I had taken off so quickly and replacing the heavy matching earrings one, then the other.
I noticed that the skin of his bare feet was brown and calloused.
He’d been around.
He pulled on his shriveled canvas shoes
smiling down at them now as he tied them one, then the other, slowly with time to kill.
I quickly slipped on my high, high spikey heels over the expensive black stockings tisking over the hole in the toe, nervous, needing desperately to get out of there.
He carelessly threw the Hawaiian shirt over his sleeveless T.
There is nothing careless about me.
I slipped on my red suit jacket over the black silk tank and buttoned it at my waist.
He looked at me again.
Then took his laptop from the TSA agent
and headed toward Concourse B.