“I just don't understand.”

I don't know how many times I have to explain it to my sister, because I'm sure she has dealt with a delayed flight before. She's being unreasonable about this, but there's really nothing I can do.

All flights are grounded, not just the ones from the airline I’m flying, and it's not just the ones going back home because I've already asked.

I've tried to switch my ticket around, though admittedly I haven’t tried very hard to do that. I just tried to see if I could do it on the website on my phone and when I couldn’t, I gave up.

I think there are people who need to change their tickets a lot more, especially those that are traveling, or attempting to travel, with toddlers or infants.

I can't imagine they want to go back home in this weather. I don’t know how long we’re stuck in here for, but it doesn’t seem like it would be fun to stay here with children.

They might have it worse but I'm still trying to argue with my sister about something that is completely out of my hands.

She seems incredibly annoyed with me, and it doesn't matter how many times I’ve tried to tell her there is nothing I can do about it, she is not receptive to it in the slightest.

She exhales heavily through her nose. “Max, do you know how broken-hearted Mom and Dad will be?”

I can’t help but be angry with her. “I know they'd be a little more broken hearted if I died in a plane accident because the pilots took off when they couldn’t see shit, Anna.”

“God, as usual, you’re catastrophizing,” she replies, her tone curt. “Anyway, is there no way you can make a different arrangement to get down here? If Mom and Dad don’t get to see you for Christmas, they're going to freak out.”

I frown at that. I’m not sure of what she’s implying. “I don't understand. What do you mean they're going to freak out? They've already not seen me for Christmas for, like, eight years. I’m sure it’ll be okay they won't see me for Christmas this time.”

She tuts again. “Yeah, of course that’s what you would say. That's what you get to say because you're not the one who's there when the rest of us are, but Mom and Dad were devastated that you chose not to spend Christmas with them.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure you’re being dramatic. And you say I’m catastrophizing.”

“I’m not,” she replies. “Look, Max, if Sarah had been your wife, then maybe they wouldn't have been so upset.”

I shake my head. I had tried to explain my arrangement with Sarah to my parents, and sometimes to my siblings, but I didn't want to go into the details too much. They already disapprove of my life enough and I don't want them to judge me for it. “I told you. Our relationship wasn't like that.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds before she answers. “Oh my God. Wait a minute. Wasn’t like that?”

I don’t say anything. I don’t have to say anything.

“You broke up with her, didn't you?”

I swallow. I haven't told them about our split yet because I don't want them to think that's the only reason I'm going home. I mean, it kind of is, but I don't want them to think that.

That just makes me feel like I am an ungrateful piece of shit, and I don't like thinking about myself like that either. I’m not ungrateful, I’m just defending myself. I think that’s pretty normal.

“I’ll find out if I can get my ticket refunded,” I say, instead of answering her. I don’t want to answer her. I don’t want her to know she’s right, and I definitely don’t want her to tell my parents about it. If anyone needs to tell them, it has to be me.

Before she can answer, I end the call and walk toward the counter.

There is a long line at the counter. I guess it shouldn't surprise me, but it does. I clutch my coffee close to me, trying to warm myself up with it.

It's cold in here, despite the heating. The noise isn't helping either.

I think I feel colder than it is just because of the sound outside. I hug myself after I stuff my phone in the pocket of my jeans.

There are people here, a lot of people, and I'm sure this place is going to get hot soon because no one's going to move. Not as long as the flights are grounded.

I dick around on my phone for a bit as I wait for the line to advance. Eventually, I'm in front of a clerk, a guy around my age who is wearing a white and blue uniform. He's looking down at his computer screen before he sets his gaze on me.

His eyes widen when he does, and he opens his mouth to say something but he seems to rethink it and shuts it quickly.

I smile at him, trying my best to come across as friendly despite his strange reaction.

I know how my night ends up is going to ultimately be in his hands, so I don't want to piss him off, and I seem to already have done that with my appearance.

His expression settles into that cold customer smile people in service jobs reserve to use only for those they find insufferable. I know that, because I used to work in a customer service job, too. A long time ago.

My smile is unwavering, though. “Hello. I’m booked on the flight to Jackson that was supposed to be departing in about twenty minutes.”

“Right.”

He doesn't say more than that. I wish he would, because that would give me an idea of what I'm supposed to say so I could maybe get my ticket refunded.

I don't genuinely think I'm going to be able to, but if I don't even try, then I know Anna won’t ever let me hear the end of it. “Right,” I repeat. “And I was just hoping maybe there was a way that I could get the ticket refunded?”

He looks at me, his eyes still wide, and slightly shakes his head. He's kind of gorgeous—I’m not gay, but I can recognize a handsome guy when I see one, because I’m not repressed or anything—and if he didn’t look so tired I think I would have done a double take on his face.

It's wide with high cheekbones and with dark caramel brown eyes. His nose is straight, perfect, like it happened to be carved out of marble. He is taller than me. Slightly, but also noticeably, because he carries himself better.

He looks like he’s had movement classes, even as he clicks a couple of times and glances down at the computer screen inside the glass case in the counter in front of him. The more I look at him, the more I think that he might be a part-time model. That might be why he looks so familiar to me.

I know a lot of them, and I know all of them have full-time jobs just to get by. Until they get discovered.

He looks a little old to be a model, so maybe he used to be one and now he's trying to find his place in the city.

Models are disposable, way more disposable than actors, especially when they age out of it, which is one of the reasons I decided not to go into it. I could have, I guess. I was ‘discovered’.

But it wasn't for me, because I couldn't stand living in a tiny apartment with five other guys with just one bathroom. The system is set-up to pay you with prestige, not money. I need money.

I also know modeling is a job, but personally, I think acting is way more serious.

Of course, I don’t say that to any of the models I know and I’m a hundred percent not going to say it to model-airline-guy.

He shakes his head once more, brushing his sandy blonde hair off his forehead. “I'm sorry, sir. But it's company policy that we do not refund tickets due to inclement weather.”

He says it all so automatically, like he's probably had to say it a million times to a million-different people already.

I lean in and smirk conspiratorially at him. “Would I be able to maybe give it to someone else? I mean, I know it's your responsibility to place me in a different flight if ours doesn't take off, but maybe someone would like my ticket to my next flight.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I would only take half a refund, too.”

He looks at me and raises eyebrows. “Your ticket is to embark on which flight, sir?”

He tacks on the “sir” at the very end, like he didn't want to say it in first place.

I swallow. Of course I had to get the unbreakable one instead of the nice red-headed girl next to him, the one that never stops smiling, whose eyes shine all the time.

My gaze slides down to his chest. I read off his nametag, and at first, I only start to feel a little bit uncomfortable. Then I realize this might be someone who I've actually met before and who I'm ignoring. Maybe that’s why he’s acting so cold.

I've definitely met him, which I maybe can use to my advantage. But maybe I can’t use it to my advantage at all because he seems to really hate me.

I don't know what I did to him because mostly I get along well with people, but I'm sure I've messed up a couple of times. Especially at parties.

Is he the guy I was with at that party once? No, that doesn’t seem right. I would remember that, I think. On the other hand, I was really fucked up that night. Oh God, maybe I wouldn’t remember that.

“I am unable to refund your tickets, sir. Is there anything else that I can help you with?”

“I know you, don’t I?”

He narrows his eyes.

He doesn't answer my question. Instead, he hits me back with one of his own. “Is there anything else I can do to help you tonight, sir?”

“I don't know.”

I rub the bridge of my nose, something I only do when I'm nervous.

I don't know why this guy makes me nervous, but he does. The fact that he seems to hate me doesn't just make the situation uncomfortable, it makes it bizarre.

I want to know what to do. I want to tell him I'm sorry for whatever I did to him, but mostly so he will refund my tickets. I can’t be that sorry if I can’t remember who he is.

The least I want is for him to give me a meal voucher or something because I've seen people with them going into the fast food restaurants around us, but I don't want to ask for one. Not from him, not when he clearly hates me.

“Okay. I'm going to ask you to step aside, because there is a long line behind you. There are people I might be able to help,” he says it so matter-of-factly, like there's not any shade in it, but I can hear it. I can hear the shade.

“Will you at least tell me where the luggage is? I may have to take a Greyhound to go home and I need to get my stuff before I leave the airport.”

“The luggage that stays here due to grounded flights goes back into the baggage carousel, so you can pick it up there,” he replies. “If you want to, you might go now. Just be aware that the room is very full right now so it may take you a little while. They’re also still unloading all the flights.”

“Okay.”

He sets his gaze right on my face again. “You will need to recheck your bags if you are planning on sticking around for the next flight you are on, so I do recommend you do that regardless of what your plans are.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I look down at his name tag. “You’ve been really helpful…Jason.”

“Wow,” he says. It’s one word, just one word, but it’s dripping with disdain.

Now I’m really curious. Mostly scared, but also curious.

“What?” I ask after I clear my throat.

“I thought you were being an asshole, but you actually don't remember me, do you?” Jason asks. The distant coldness is gone from his voice. The customer service tone has completely disappeared. It's been replaced by this hostile, annoyed, and not very pleasant tone.

“I remember you from somewhere,” I offer. I’m sure I’m falling short, but at least I’m trying. That has to count for something.

He shakes his head, brushing his hair back from his forehead again. “I don't even know why I thought you would recognize me.”

I may as well ask at this point. “Where do I know you from?”

He narrows his eyes again, and this time, they shine. There’s still a little hint of a smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't seem very amused. He certainly doesn’t seem happy.

“Are you shitting me right now?”

I shrug. I don't know what to say to him because I'm not lying.

I know a bunch of Jasons, but I would absolutely remember if I knew one who looks like him.

He's striking. He's not somebody who I could just forget about. He has this air to him too, like he commands any room he is in. Even when he's exhausted, which he clearly is right now.

“I'm sorry. My memory is not what it used to be.”

He exhales heavily through his nose, chocking back a chuckle. “Aren't you like twenty-six?”

He’s shaking his head when he speaks.

I wonder how he knows that. People think I look a bit older than that. Most people tag me as someone who's in their thirties. How would he know how old I am? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Unless…

“Wait,” I say. “Holy shit. Are you Jason Mayes?”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” he says quietly. There's this joy in his voice when he says it, but it’s snarky, like of course I can’t fucking remember who he is.

Like he thinks I'm stupid for not realizing that he was Jason Mayes before.

But he can’t blame me. He doesn’t look the way he used to look, all lanky and long and noodle-y and not gorgeous.

“Now please, sir,” he says, putting the emphasis on the last word. “As you can see, I have a lot of customers waiting. Do you need me to point you to where the baggage area is?”

“No,” I reply after I lick my lips. “I can find it myself.”

I walk away from him quickly.

I'm trying not to look back, trying not to see what he's doing right now but I can't help myself.

I look over my shoulder and watch him doing his job.

He's not doing anything but standing there and talking to a customer, an older woman with gray hair.

He smiles at her, and she smiles back, and he doesn't seem nearly as tired as he seemed when he was dealing with me.

I feel bad, really bad.

I can’t believe that that’s Jason Mayes.

He was my neighbor when I was growing up, but we were never really friends. Well, not after we got a little older, anyway. We were friends until we were about fifteen.

That was for a variety of reasons, none of which included that he didn't want to be my friend.

I understand now why he didn't want to deal with me in the first place, and I feel bad that he recognized me.

It wasn't that I bullied him exactly, it was just that I was never very nice to him. Not when it counted. He was the only gay kid in my class—that any of us knew of back then—and most people thought it was kind of cool, but I was one of the popular kids and I didn't think it was cool at all.

I came from a relatively religious household, and I didn’t know how to deal with one of the coolest kids in school being a gay guy. Not when he happened to be my best friend ever since we were tiny.

I thought it was wrong, and for a variety of different reasons I still fail to understand, he seemed to think I was great.

I didn't think the same thing about him, especially not as we grew older and slowly apart.

I mean, we did go to middle school together, and we would walk from our houses down to the building every morning together, without fail.

He would come get me, or I would go get him, and we would make sure we were on time.

It was a good friendship.

Until he came out.

Then everything changed and our class was divided in half.

There were the people who were okay with Jason Mayes being the cool, gay guy that was part of our classes and there were the people who weren't okay with it.

I became the unwitting leader of the second group. It was never intentional, but I don't think that matters. The more I tried to withdraw myself from him, the more people seemed to think I was against his existence, philosophically speaking. I never was, not really, but I never did do anything to talk people out of that idea.

When I didn’t go to his birthday party—he was turning seventeen, he invited everyone and everyone went, but I couldn’t bring myself to go—he never spoke to me again. He would ignore me if we ever ran into each other. At school, at the supermarket, even on the street.

He wouldn’t even flip me off or glare at me, he would just… ignore me. It hurt every time, but I knew I deserved it.

I didn’t think I would ever see him again.

And now I have and I don’t know what to do about it.

As if I needed another thing to add to everything that’s going on right now.

It takes me a long time to walk from where I am to the baggage claim area. Jason wasn't lying. There are lot of people here. It's kind of impossible to go through them to go to the carousel but eventually I manage to squeeze in and stand in front of it. As it turns out, it’s pointless.

There is no luggage on the carousel, not yet, so I'm going to have to wait, even if I want to go and get a bus to get home.

I pull my phone out of my jeans and start looking for bus tickets on my phone, trying to see how much it will cost me to get home if I don't take a plane.

The flight is six hours long, with a one-hour layover in Houston.

The bus will take twelve hours to take me home, plus a three hour wait time before it departs. It's too long, but it's better than being stuck in the airport.

Especially if my parents are going to be as upset as Anna says they're going to be. I don't think they will be, but then again, I don't see them enough to know. It upsets me to think I am the cause of their pain. It upsets me to think I am the cause of anyone's pain.

My thoughts soon wander from my parents to Jason. I can't help but feel guilty about everything, about the way things went down between us.

I want to ask him about it. I want to make sure he's doing okay, but he's working and I don't think he wants to hear from me.

I wait for a long while.

Everyone’s luggage slowly starts to come in, but the one from my flight seems to be taking its sweet time. Even though people are asking questions about it, the guys working the baggage claim area just say the people outside are working as fast as they can.

I can’t blame them for going slowly because it's cold and windy outside, and the visibility is shit, so it must be hard to carry all of these things and put them back into baggage claim right now.

I'm also not happy I have to stand there for nearly two hours, doing nothing but playing a silly browser game and watching the battery on my phone slowly drain.

My sister calls me before I see my luggage. I wonder if I should send her to voicemail, but I don't. I know if I do I won't hear the end of it. “Hello?”

“Hey. I just wanted to check in on how things are going right now,” she quickly says.

“I'm waiting for my luggage. When I get it, I'll book a Greyhound bus.”

“How long will that take you?”

“To get there? Like fifteen hours.”

She’s quiet for a minute. “Why don’t you rent a car?”

“Do you want me to drive all the way down to Jackson?”

“I mean, if you can.”

“I can,” I reply after swallowing. “It's just going to take me like ten hours.”

“It would be better than the bus,” she offers.

I shake my head. “You do know I haven’t driven for eight years?”

She tuts. “That’s not my responsibility.”

I sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Look, I appreciate what you're doing, and I want to be there for Christmas but I don't know if me driving is a good idea. At least if I took the bus to go down, I wouldn’t be responsible for driving.”

“Right. Just like you're never responsible for anything.”

I scoff. My sister has turned up the hostility to eleven since the start of the day, and I don’t know why. I just hope that it isn’t an indication of things to come.

“What did I do to you?” I reply as I shake my head. “We were getting along really well.”

“We were. Until I realized just how little you wanted to be here,” she says. “Until I realized how little you care about upsetting Mom and Dad.”

“That's not fair,” I reply almost instantly. “Of course I care about upsetting Mom and Dad.”

“Please,” she says. “We both know the only reason you're coming is because Sarah didn’t invite you to her Christmas thing. Otherwise, you would be running away again. I should really be asking you what we did to you that you would go to such great lengths to avoid us.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“That’s why you haven’t come home for Christmas for almost ten years.”

“Okay, look, it isn’t about you. I love you guys.” I mean it, but I don’t think she believes me.

She tuts. “I think you may have to start working on showing people that you love them, because you really suck at it.”

“I’ll be there,” I say. “I promise. I’ll rent a car or—”

“Whatever. Do whatever you want, just make sure you're here for Christmas. Okay?”

“Yes,” I reply. “Of course. I think that’s my luggage. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Fine,” she replies. She hangs up without saying good-bye and I look at my phone for a second and swallow. I did not mean to piss her off. If she’s angry, that means everyone’s angry.

I don't want to face them when they are all angry.

It takes me a long time to finally pick up my luggage. It’s a lot.

It's basically everything I own, and the two oversized luggage cases are almost impossible to carry. I had to get rid of a bunch of stuff when I moved out of Sarah's place, but still, I'm not by any stretch of the imagination a minimalist.

I start dragging my stuff around, trying my best to keep myself from tipping over from how heavy everything is.

There are some luggage carts which I can use to lug my stuff around, but they seem like they’re very far away, and just walking toward them feels like a treacherous journey.

I finally get there though. I try to rent one out, but it eats my dollar and it doesn't give it back.

I'm feeling like I'm about to kick something when I start to shake the handles of the cart, trying to see if it’ll come free. I really just want to be able to move my bags around with me, because I'm not supposed to leave them alone, and I don't want to leave my stuff unsupervised. I’m not white enough to be able to get away with things like that.

I take my wallet out of my pocket again as I look for another dollar, but I don't have any other loose ones. I have some quarters, but the machine only takes dollars, and it doesn’t look like it’ll take cards.

I’m stuck without a luggage cart, no matter how many times I shake it.

I'm stuck having to carry all the stuff around, until I either leave, or they put me on a different flight.

I could walk down to where they rent cars, but I assume that's going to be very busy, and it’s going to take me a long time to get there with these two mammoth cases slowing me down. I’m going to run into people, too.

There are people behind me, people who are waiting to get some of the luggage carts, so I step away.

I don't want to get in anyone's way, especially not when people are in a rush.

I'm not in a rush. I'm just confused.

My license is still good, and it's going to be good for another two years, but I haven't driven in a long time because it's not necessary to drive where I live.

I could take the subway, or I could take a taxi. Mostly, I could just walk where I needed to go. That's one of the advantages of living in a big city, but of course, I'm from the south. Organized public transportation, at least to this level, was not something I experienced before I moved out here.

But now, I may have to drive twelve hours to get home, on black ice-covered roads. I've never even driven in snow before and the very idea of it terrifies me. I don't mind buying a ticket to take a bus, because at least the driver will know what they are doing, I think, because I think they'll have done it before.

I don't trust myself to do it. I don't think I would trust myself to drive around the block, never mind down the interstate.

Still, renting a car would prove to my sister that I’ve at least tried, because if I don't... Well, I don't want to think about what will happen if I don't.

I finally manage to drag my bags out of the baggage claim area and start to make my way to the escalators. Slowly, surely, because otherwise I’m going to take out some kid with them.

It takes me forever to get to the escalator and by the time I do, sweat is dripping down my face. It doesn’t matter how cold it is outside, I'm wearing a coat and a scarf and I'm having to carry around the entirety of my belongings.

It's not easy. It doesn't matter how much I work out.

This is going to be torturous, at least until I can get rid of them. Until I can put them in the trunk of my rented car, I guess. Even just trying to get them down the escalator is a huge operation.

Someone shoulder checks me and calls me an asshole for being in the way. I sigh, because they’re right. I shouldn't be in the way. I'm just trying to find a way to get down the stairs without hurting anyone. I could do that without standing in front of the escalator.

But it's hard, because I'm having to calculate how I'm going to do this.

Maybe I can tip my luggage over, have it land on the floor below, and I can then go downstairs and just pick it up. That seems like the most sensible solution. Well, perhaps not the most sensible, but at least it seems like a solution. I have all my valuable electronics stuffed in my backpack. It's not like I'm dropping the laptop or anything like that.

Okay, that's what I'm going to do.

Once I've made my decision, I start edging toward the half wall that works as a sort of glass balcony. I look down, swallow, and then open my mouth to scream. “Incoming,” I say weakly.

I grab my case as I’m about to lift it up over my head so I can drop it down onto the floor below when someone puts their hand on my shoulder.

It takes me a little while to realize the person who has touched my shoulder is Jason. He’s frowning. “What are you doing?”

I put my case down. “I'm trying to get downstairs to rent a car.”

He shakes his head. “You screamed ‘incoming’ in an airport, and then were going to drop your bags down below you. The police are looking at you. You’re lucky I was here at the same time.”

He glances at two security guards. At least, what I thought were two security guards. No, they're full-on police. Swallowing, I put my case down next to me again.

“I talked them out of tackling you,” he says. “Well, I don’t know if I did that, I just said that I know you and then ran at you. So maybe?”

My eyes widen. “So, did you stop them from tackling me?”

He shrugs. “I guess. I don't know. Maybe they just knew that I knew you so they decided not to tackle you?”

He doesn't seem very interested in explaining it. I don’t think that he wants to be around me, but I do appreciate what he's just done. I could be in a world of trouble if he hadn’t done it. I'm just really tired and it's hard for me to focus right now. Ideas that I would have never thought were acceptable seem totally normal right now. I've been awake for like fifteen hours, and I don't know when the next time I'm going to sleep is. I'm going to have to drive twelve hours across the country, but before I can do that, I have to get downstairs so I can rent a car. I want to tell him these things, but he's looking at me like he's already super bored of me.

I don't want to bore him. I want him to want to take an interest in me. I take an interest in him. He is looking at me though like he's just wasted his time. Maybe he's reconsidering his help.

I get it. I was an idiot. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to help me either. He’s about to walk away, but I can’t bear to let him leave.

“Hey.” I start. “Could we talk?”

He shrugs. “We’re already talking.”

I shake my head. “No. I mean, like really talk. Like sit down and talk.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. “Look, if you're going home, I totally get it. We don't have to talk at all,” I reply. “I'm stuck here. Until I can rent a car or get a bus to go home. I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon, and I'm definitely not driving when the storm is like this.”

He blinks, silent. It’s punishing.

“So, I would really like to catch up with you,” I add.

“Why?” he says as he cocks his head. His blonde hair falls off his face, and his eyes shine. Those beautiful caramel-colored eyes. Shit, I need to stop thinking about him like this. This is the little boy I went to school with. My childhood neighbor, not some sort of Greek god or movie star, regardless of how good he looks.

“What do you mean why? We went to school together.”

He scoffs. “Well, Max, unlike you, I know where we know each other from.”

I sigh once again. “Look, I obviously need to make it up to you.”

His eyes narrow. “What do you need to make up to me?”

“The fact that I didn’t…”

He doesn’t help me. I don’t think he’ll ever help me.

“The fact that I didn’t recognize you,” I say quickly.

He considers this for a second, his fists clenched at his sides. “Okay,” he says. “One coffee. You’re buying. Just so you know, the only reason I’m doing this is so the place doesn’t get shut down due to your stupidity.”

“That’s not fair.”

“That’s not fair?”

I swallow. He’s right, there’s nothing I can say to that.

“Plus,” he says, this time with a smile, “it's kind of a delight to see you have to lug those gigantic cases around. I mean, I'm enjoying the faces you're making.”

I blink a couple of times. “Wait, you've been watching me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, don't look so smug. You're nothing special, just a bit of entertainment while I wait for my flight.”

I frown. “Wait. Your flight? You’re not just working?”

He shrugs and twists his lips. “Yeah. But all flights are grounded, so it doesn't matter.”

“You’re going home?”

“Yeah. That's the plan anyway, but it's the twenty-third and I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it on time.”

I sigh. “This sucks. How much do they know about the storm?”

“Not much,” he replies. “All we know is that it’s happening and that it's probably not going to go away for a while. We might even get snowed in.”

“Even if the blizzard passes?”

“Snow is a big deal, Max. They’re working as hard as they can.”

“I know. I didn't say that they weren't.”

“Yeah, you just implied it.”

“I didn’t mean to imply it.”

“Whatever. You're talking me out of this coffee pretty quickly.”

I shake my head. “Sorry. Let's go. What's your favorite place to have coffee around here?”

“I don’t know, every place is going to be packed, so let’s just go wherever doesn’t have a huge line,” he says. Then he stretches as he yawns. It’s the first time I look at his arms. Even though the blue fabric is covering his muscles, I can tell he works out.

I'm trying not to stare, but it's hard. It's difficult to reconcile the Jason standing in front of me to the person who I knew him to be before.

But I did know this person, and he was a huge part of my life. Truly strange because I didn't think I would ever see him again. We never talked about his plans for after school, and I heard a couple of things because our neighborhood was small and we ran in overlapping circles, but I didn't realize we would end up in the same city.

Even if we had, the city's huge, so unless we ran in the same circles here, there was no way that we would run into each other.

That’s why it’s so weird that I've bumped into him at an airport, and he’s the guy in charge of dealing with the passengers from my grounded flight.

It's weird, it's trippy and I don't know how I feel about it. I wasn’t ready to face my past today, especially not the really shitty parts of my past. I wish I could have been more prepared for it.

I don't know how I feel about all this, not when my sister is still expecting me to go home. If I don't then things could be bad.

I do not want to upset my parents. Regardless of what she says, I really don't want to upset them.

He doesn't seem to have the same problem. Why would he? He wasn't the one who was a dick.

I was such a horrible person back then and it took me a long time to be someone I'm proud of.

I don't feel proud of myself right now. I feel lost.