"He didn't come..."

I should have listened to my intuition. Quite like a zombie, I made my way to the airport to no avail. Andy was nowhere to be seen. One by one, the passengers were walking past the arrival gate, some of them greeted - cheerfully or not by friends or family.

As I was waiting on the platform to take the train back to Paris, I recognized a girl I had seen on the airport shuttle on my way top the terminal. She still had her luggage with her and a plastic bag containing some kitchen equipment she must have just bought the previous day. There were tears in her eyes. I walked to her and asked her what happened. Maybe she didn’t realize that shared the same shuttle an hour and a half before. 

“He didn’t come…” was all she managed to say. I knew nothing more. She couldn’t speak French or English. I helped her lift her suitcase when we got in the train. We sat opposite each other but kept silent during the whole trip. She was lost in her thoughts and weeping softly.