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1

It was almost sundown when I stepped foot into the large airport, but it was hard to tell with how bleak it was outside.
Trying my hardest not to think about the immense amount of work I'd left behind to drive two hours out of my way; I hurried through the crowds with my hands in my pockets, careful not to bump smack into anyone in front of me.
It had taken two phone calls, one appointment cancellation, and a heaping plate of family guilt to get me to drive out here in his sister's stead: she was claiming truth to a busy schedule-- too busy to pick up her own brother after several years without seeing his face.
I, being someone who loved her family far too much to say no, told her not to worry about it.

The faint whoosh of the Russian aircraft caught my attention as I sipped at my coffee: I glanced up at the large, rain-pelted window of the terminal to see the massive plane prepare to unload its passengers.
Family members and friends waited alongside the tarmac, greeting their mothers, grandmothers, business partners, long distance lovers, and everyone else dear to them; while I merely stood near the ticket desk with my coffee in hand.
We weren't particularly close-- he and I-- so I was fully prepared for the awkwardness that would follow him catching sight of me instead of his sister.
I searched the influx of plane passengers for the round, boyish face and strawberry blonde fringe I'd known for most of my life: he'd probably be wearing the same red Billabong sweater he usually wore during road trips, along with a pair of uncomfortably tight jeans and a tasteless ball cap.
Alright, maybe he'd changed the sweater-- it had, after all, been several years since he'd stepped foot in the United States.
How different could he look, anyway?

As I sipped tediously at my coffee and watched the crowds disperse, I seemed to have garnered the attention of a tall, brooding man in a grey sweatshirt as I awaited my passenger's emergence.
I fought internally with my learned paranoia: the airport was bustling with people, so I had nothing to worry about, right?
I ignored his shadowed glare, balancing myself back and forth upon my toes as the tarmac was closed off.
Maybe my passenger was already out in the airport, looking for his sister.
I wasn't expecting him to look for me, anyway.
Just as I turned to search the crowds for the man I was to drive home; I felt a large, spidery hand upon my shoulder.

"Not even a 'welcome back'? I see how it is."
???
I hastily whipped around, more than shocked to find that the tall, mysterious man in the grey sweatshirt was the one I'd been waiting for.

"You.. you got taller," I managed, my eyes moving faster than my mind as the latter began to process the situation.
"Niet," he spoke in what sounded like an enhanced Russian accent.
He gently pulled back his hood, revealing the waning remnants of a boy I once knew.
"You got shorter."