A Fork in the Road - Part One

Ziya walked to the center of the grand lobby, wheeling her carryon behind her.  She looked up at the high ceiling and the massive chandelier dominating the center, its tiny bulbs winking at her.  She scanned the open space around, twirling on the red and yellow rug patterned in geometric shapes.  A restaurant and a bar anchored each corner of the entrance as they faced each other with their respective welcome signs.  The restaurant posted a closed sign on a stand, but the bar beckoned patrons for a late night beer, shamrock style.  Ziya searched for the check-in desk straight ahead of her, but before she could march towards it she heard a commotion behind her at the entrance.

A young man seemed stuck between two glass panes in a revolving door.  His fingerless gloves pressed hard on the door, palms flat, bare tips of his fingers rough on the edges.  Ziya noticed an lone yarn of beige wool peeking through the broken zipper of his brown, quilted jacket, as if trying to escape to the world outside.  Her gaze travelled up to his unshaven face where she observed flushed cheeks emerging through the dark forest of hair.  The woolen skull cap resting on thick, dark hair looked familiar, but she couldn’t recall meeting this man.

Freeing himself from the troublesome doors, he seemed to rush towards her.  Behind him, she spotted the doorman discretely stepping in, his eyes locked on the intruder.  Her attention returned to the man who was standing right in front of her, and she noticed he was extending his arm out to her.  Between coarse fingers that didn’t seem to want the protection of his wool gloves, he held a card.  Looking closely she noticed it had her picture on it and wasn’t it the same corporate card she had used to pay the taxi driver moments ago?

To be continued