It was so hot, that night. I remember the tarmac felt like wax. The moon was full, and the sky was abuzz with some kind of dark, reddish glow. We had plenty of time, so we got coffee at the airport. It was a late flight, but the airport still drifted with its human flotsam and jetsam. It was strangely hushed, as if people had mistaken the architecture of the airport for some kind of church.
We sat there, talking ā as usual, the conversation ranging as far and wide as a migrating butterfly. You smiled at me over your espresso, and it suddenly hit me how much I was going to miss you. It couldnāt be any other way, though. We knew that. This was your moonshot.
Eventually, your flight was called, though our words hadnāt nearly run out. There was still so much to say, but thatās what technology is for, we said. Words had always come easy between us, an ocean couldnāt wash them away. Somehow though, when we said goodbye, I felt less like a man and more like the scared little boy you met when we were ten.
Standing in the oppressive heat, from the car park I watched several flights take off, not knowing which was yours. When the last blinking light had merged with the stars in the red sky, I went home, heavy and thick with emotions I couldnāt name.
Of course, I couldnāt sleep. I had three cold showers, it still didnāt help much. I didnāt mean to, but I found your letters that night, as I stumbled around the apartment seeking to cool myself.
Iām so sorry, I didnāt know.
I sat there reading, sweat mingling with the flow of tears, your blurry handwriting a vehicle of uncanny revelation. I started reinterpreting the last few months through the mirror of your letters. You were in so much pain, more than I ever realised.
Iām so sorry, I didnāt know.
Around 3a.m. I couldnāt read any more. I desperately wanted to call you, but you were still in the air. I threw on some clothes and I started running, as if I could leave your words behind, or gain enough speed to cross the ocean and be waiting for you when you landed. I ended up down at the lake where we always used to camp out. The full moon glimmered on the water, still tainted red. I screamed at the stars, and you, somewhere up there ā āIām so sorry, I didnāt knowā.
I didnāt know I would never see you again.
