We had never met before. I knew that I should be more scared, but try to look less scared or something. Even though I had seen his picture a thousand times, I was still so worried that I wouldn’t recognize him. What if he wasn't even real, and I had just been tricked and catfished and instead there was a 40-year-old man on this plan, or no one?
I was there to pick him up, and meet him for the first time. I was looking around nervously, letting my gaze jump from one thing to another until I heard them call his flight number; he’d be getting off that plane at any moment. I watched hoards of returning and vacationing families walk from the exit ramp, mixed in were various business people, adolescents traveling alone and with friends, and a confused looking 18-year-old boy; I knew it was him the first time that I saw him. His gaze was jumping from objects to people to the seats that I had sat in to wait for him, to the food stands that I had considered snacking from earlier that day. Despite his scared look, he seemed strong, and confident, and the fearfulness I knew, was not a normal thing for him.
I watched as he shed his jacket and tied it to his rolling suit-case. I could tell he wasn’t used to this warm of weather. His black hair, perfectly pale skin, and dark jeans looked out-of-place in the crowded airport, especially since it was a warmer day. I started walking towards him, not sure whether I wanted him to see me or not before I got there, all at once he saw me from across the crowd. I knew he recognized me. I wonder if he looked at my picture for hours at a time the way that I looked at his.
It didn’t matter either way because in that moment, when our eyes met for the first time, all our endless hours of talking came back to me all at once, all the wonderful promises that we’d made to each other, it was as if the rest of the world was washed away. All except that look, and the way his overpowering eyes were somehow controlling me, pulling me towards him. Before I knew it, he was walking closer to me too, rolling his suitcase after him, and as if caught within a dream, we were suddenly face to face. We stopped, both caught with a state of fantasy, unsure what to do, or even if this was real at all. Apparently he broke free of this dream first and reached towards me with one hand, taking my hand in his. I was still in a trance, unable to move, unable to breath, unable to form coherent thought, believing that this could not possibly be real. And then he spoke. His voice was strangely soft and perfect in every way, breaking my trance and my heart all at the same time as he said, “Your even more beautiful than I imagined.”
gurgenshnogal Community Member 
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