Page 20 - You Only Live Once [BooksLD]
P. 20

This  girl  reaches  the  counter  first.  Right  behind  her,  a  woman  whose
                shoulder tattoo reads ‘Be Kind’ shouts at her. She gently smiles in return
                while offering her to move forward. Now standing right in front of me, she

                says, ‘Nice bag’.
                   ‘Thank  you,’  I  reply.  No  person  is  bad,  how  you  look  at  them  is  a
                reflection  of  your  own  self.  A  friend  of  mine  would  always  remember
                others by the cars they owned, while I never even noticed their clothes. I
                feel that we must always look up to somebody. Everybody is unique and

                has something unique to offer. It helps you keep yourself grounded.
                   ‘Would you mind me asking where you got it from?’

                   ‘Oh! Why would I?’ I shrug, ‘It’s a birthday gift! My father brought it
                from the U.S.’
                   ‘Lucky you! Your dad must be amazing, huh. He must love you so much.
                What a gift! Perhaps I will never get to know what model it is,’ she replies.

                   ‘Yeah!  It  would  be  kind  of  rude  to  call  him  up  and  say—Hey!  Dad.
                Where exactly did you get my bag from?’ A broken laughter erupts out of
                me.

                   We laugh in unison like school children do over the most stupid jokes,
                and even engage in a high five. To be honest, her innocence reminds me of
                one of my friends from school. My father kept us moving between cities all
                through my life and I never got to meet her again. I could never find her on
                Facebook either! But this woman felt like that old friend uniting after years.

                   I bid her a happy journey as I am now the first person in the queue. She
                moves towards the boarding gates.

                   ‘Hello ma’am,’ says the beautiful attendant from the ground staff. Her
                name card reads Melania.
                   ‘Hello, Melania,’ I say as I hand her my phone with the flight reservation

                details.
                   ‘Window?’ she inquires with a smile. ‘Yes,’ I say. It’s going to be a long
                flight.

                   ‘How many check-in bags?’ she asks almost mechanically. I believe that
                after call-center executive jobs, this one is the most demanding. The most
                awful tragedies might hit you personally, but you’ve got to smile still.

                   ‘Two.’ It’s three actually, including the box full of questions in my mind.
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