Lost

Apr 4, 2026

"I'm standing in an airport terminal, but the gates keep rearranging themselves — every time I find my gate it's moved to the opposite end of the terminal. My boarding pass shows a flight number that doesn't appear on any of the departure boards. The terminal is packed but nobody else seems concerned; they're all walking with purpose while I'm the only one lost. I find a gate agent and hand her my boarding pass. She studies it for a long moment, then looks up and says "this flight already left — yesterday." But I'm certain I booked it for today. I feel the specific dread of knowing I've missed something important without understanding how. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the tarmac is flooded — planes taxiing through dark water up to their wheels. The sky is a deep amber, like late afternoon but wrong somehow. A plane takes off anyway, lifting slowly through the reflection of itself in the water below. I realize I left my luggage somewhere but can't remember where, or even what was in it. "