Almost midnight when the plane taking off, and outside I can see a million lights of your city. In a few seconds, I’m completely flying over your city. There, one light among those million is yours; you and your lover now. I still feel the cold pain slicing through my left chest, spreading to my back whenever I remember you. I can’t help it. I should be able to stop thinking about you by now, but every second, memories flood in and remind me of you. The harder I try, the more it keeps coming back.

Like now, I suddenly remember your random question, “Flying… aisle or window seat?”
Me being me, I explained in detail, “Depends on the flight. Early morning or almost twilight on short flights less than three hours… of course, window. Daytime or night flight on short flights, aisle. Long flights, more than 5 hours I prefer at the window. I love watching sunrise or sunset, and I don’t mind the window seat, I have short legs anyway.” You laughed, then we kissed.

I am having my red-eye flight now. Eight hours to go before my next transit and continue the journey. A long way to keep playing the memories I have of you.

That million lights. We were sitting on your sofa, turning off all the lamps and watching the city lights outside your window. I told you, “I always love city lights at night, I feel recharged.” You laughed; we had lots of laughs when we were together. “Why? You feel electrified?”

“No, look at those lights! Millions! Just imagine, one light represents one problem in this world. Then my problem is just one small dot and it will be over. I’m good, my problem is nothing!”

Why are you still my problem? When is it going to be over? You are happier now. Maybe.

The plane is shaking. The captain announced bad weather outside and that we are going to cruise through a storm. It’s going to be bumpy, and we are advised to fasten our seatbelts.

Storm and rain, how we loved that. One night it was a heavy storm outside, so loud it woke us up. Then you hugged me tight, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here. It’s just a storm, it will clear our path and tomorrow we will have a blue sky.” I couldn’t help but laugh, “Do you think I am afraid?”

“I’m just guessing. You never told me what you are afraid of…”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Me? Storms… so, I hug you. What’s yours?”

“Never being able to say a proper goodbye.”

“Oh darling… we will never need a goodbye.”

I thought so. I thought I would never say goodbye to you. Until one night, you cooked my favourite dinner, spaghetti aglio olio. You always said that I am too easy; aglio olio never needs skill. “No, when you can cook simplicity and make it the most delicious, that requires high skill,” I said defensively. I always finished my meal clean whenever you made me spaghetti aglio olio, but that night I couldn’t eat even a bite.

“I met someone else, and I think I’ve fallen in love. We should end our relationship, or whatever we have now. We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

I never ate spaghetti aglio olio again. How could I not see the signs? Why was I so blind? Why did we have to end everything abruptly? Why did you never give me the chance to say goodbye properly?

The plane is getting more bumpy, and now I can hear screams.

In seconds, the oxygen masks drop, and I can think of nothing except that I never said goodbye when I ran out of your house that night.

I’m in chaos. We are being badly shaken, one lady detached from her seatbelt and thrown from her seat. I can hear mumbled prayers, screams, loud cries — praising the Lord and cursing Him at the same time. I see lovers in the middle seat holding hands. One by one, passengers are thrown out of their seats. We have no time to put on our oxygen masks or wear our life vests as shown in the safety video. There is no time for an emergency; we are heading straight to a goodbye.

It is our delayed goodbye. At my window seat, I’m going to be thrown into the light any second now, and my life flashes back in slow motion, me and you watching the million lights outside your window. Your kiss is playing over in my mind.

Why did you never give me time for a proper goodbye?

A million lights hit me.