Parking at the airport took longer than expected.
By the time I entered the terminal, I was walking quickly, scanning the crowds for Tucker’s familiar gray coat.
I checked the departure board.
His flight was still scheduled to leave on time.
I called once more.
No answer.
Then I sent another message.
I’m inside the airport. Where are you?
I passed a crowded coffee shop, several check-in counters, and families waiting beside their luggage.
Finally, near the entrance to the security checkpoint, I saw him.
His dark gray coat was unmistakable.
I almost called his name.
But something stopped me.
Tucker wasn’t standing alone.
A young woman wearing a green sweater was pressed against his chest.
His arms were wrapped around her.
For a moment, I tried to explain what I was seeing.
Maybe she was a coworker having a difficult morning.
Perhaps she had received upsetting news.
