Bleak Light

I stepped off the plane in to the wall of heat and I felt nothing.

Usually it would be relief – partly for the fresh air and partly to be away from the greyness of London, mixed with excitement or even anticipation.

Yet today, not even ambivalence.

I was here and she was not; she was gone and I felt nothing.

I waited for the taxi as the sun bled white light from the sky.  It was the hottest part of the day.  The Turkish driver greeted me in broken English as he flung my case in the back and as we drove, a week of emptiness stretched before me like the highway.

At the hotel reception desk, waiting for the clerk to copy my passport, I glanced up as I heard the doors slide open.

“Jack,” she smiled “I changed my mind.”

And immediately, a dozen emotions rushed at me.