I’ve  got to get out of here, I’ve got to get out of here.  It was a haunting voice coming from the deep abyss.  I didn’t know why and where it was coming from, but it grew louder every minute. There was nothing else I could do, but listen to the voice. That is when I made up my mind.

The digital clock on the side table showed 2:10. That Amsterdam bound KLM flight should be normally leaving in another two hours. I sprung up from bed. Washed my face in a hurry. Found my passport. Took my credit cards and whatever cash we had tucked under the linen in the drawer, threw a few things in my duffle bag, called a cab, and split in hurry before Robert returned from the store. And this was the only seat I could find.’.

●●●

The new dawn greets the descending plane and the jetway slowly extends its welcoming arm towards yet one more arriving big bird at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport. There is not much I could say, except: ‘Good luck to you my friend!’ To that I see a slight smile cross her lips.  ‘Dank u vel,’ she says and then picks up her purse and throws Tot ziens at me before darting  out of there.

She is back home:).

© Haresh Shah 2013

Illustration: Jordan Rutherford

Next Friday, March 1, 2013

I DANCED WITH DONNA SUMMER

Not that we were ever bosom buddies, but it just so happened that Donna lived in Munich at the same time as I did and for some months was a part of my close circle of friends. She would hang out with us, we would go out for dinner and be a part of her small fandom when she did her gigs at one of the Munich’s night spots.

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