Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
"Right there." Ollie's dad gestured towards a row of vacant seats, handing the passports and boarding passes he was holding over to Ollie. "Save me a seat, yeah? I need the loo."
His dad didn't give him a second to react, but his laughter rumbled silently as Ollie trailed his gaze on him managing his way through the crowd with visible urgency.
There was a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he and his family found their seats in the airport's departure area. His mother, with a gentle hand, guided his younger siblings into the stiff-backed chairs, and as he watched her sink into her seat, he shrugged off his backpack, placing it nonchalantly in the chair next to him.
His family had gone on quite the trip around the island of Sicily.
After reuniting with his family at Porto di Messina, they immediately set off for Taormina, where Ollie found himself standing in awe of its ancient ruins, amongst the crumbling stone walls that stood as solemn sentinels of time, etched with tales of bygone civilizations.
Then, there was the tranquil beach at Cefalu, a stretch of sand kissed by centuries of Mediterranean sun at which his family had revelled in the tranquillity of the shoreline, allowing the rhythmic lull of the sea to carry away their cares, even if just for a little while.
However, it was in the sun-drenched vineyards of Marsala, surrounded by the aroma of aged barrels and the velvety richness of fine wines, that Ollie and his father embarked on a distinct adventure. They'd reached Palermo the day prior, where they'd dropped off his mother and younger siblings for their own little treasure-hunting escapade at the city's infamous markets while the two of them delved into the world of wine tasting.
But now, amidst the frantic pulse of Palermo's Falcone-Borsellino Airport, he sat by the window, engulfed in his inner turmoil as he awaited his departure home.
He gazed wistfully at the planes taking off into the vast, boundless sky, and the rumble of engines, the soaring wings; each departure stirred a cascade of memories within him.
Ollie's conflicted heart only seemed to mirror the flickering lights and abrupt changes in direction, much like the flight display boards overhead. The terminals buzzed with life, yet within him, there was a quiet amalgamation of emotions as he grappled with the demanding currents of longing and responsibility.
As announcements echoed through the terminal, the English watched the hurried passengers rush towards destinations known and unknown. His hands trembled, the passports and boarding passes clutched tightly as his fingers fidgeted with the edges as if seeking refuge in their crisp, tangible certainty while his knee was jittering uncontrollably.
