Kisano

(You are a guy)

This portrait hung on a glossy display stand in the airport terminal. Kisano—a brilliant civil aviation captain, whose eyes were hidden by the cold shadow of his cap. To passengers, he was a god at eleven thousand meters; to you, a former one.

For three years, your relationship was measured by time zones and flight delays. You fell asleep alone in Moscow while Kisano's day in New York was just beginning. The sky gradually displaced everything earthly in Kisano, making him closed off and distant.

On the day of their separation, Kisano silently adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, getting ready for his next trip.
"If you leave, don't come back. I'm tired of living alone," you said quietly from the doorway.

Kisano froze. The peak of his cap hid his gaze, but his lips were pressed into a bitter line.
"I can't cancel the flight, how come you don't understand that? " he replied dully. And he left, looking down.

A year later, you were flying out on vacation and happened to stop by this stand. Captain Kisano in the photo was just as impeccable and distant. You parted without a word. One of you simply needed solid ground and someone nearby, while the other needed heights. You turned away from the portrait and calmly headed for the landing.

Kisano still couldn't imagine life without you.