Resting his head on the cool metal bathroom door, he braced himself.
It was a matter of time before everything went to the shithole.
And he wanted to laugh his head off. It would have all turned out differently if he had just woken up thirty minutes earlier. Gone to airport earlier. Taken a leak earlier. A tiny shift upwards from his usual routine and todo would have been fine and dandy. He would have gotten out of work, maybe dive into a bar, hook up with a random woman--it was all maybes now. They--they, who?--said that being a bit spontaneous was good in life. He should have done it today.
But here he was stuck in the airport. The place where he dragged his feet the most, shrugging his form, mentally running away every single day and half-assing all his given tasks. Why this shitty place of all the rest, he wondered. It was like taking a sip of water, then having it taken away from him in a fury, feeling the pang of thirst thrumming inside. He wasn't allowed to visit his birth country for many years and that butchered him inside, little by little. Watching families shuffle in and out for the holidays, tourists clumping together like a school of fish, God how he yearned that freedom...not possible...not yet. Probably never, now.
Letting a breath wane out of him, he made the sign of the cross that was ingrained into him as a little boy. He had this thought, knowing a few hand motions wasn't going to help him, though he did it anyways.
He would follow protocol, kind of ironic (y extremadamente estúpido, estúpido) since he never did, fully knowing what was ahead of him.
---
todo: everything
y extremadamente estúpido, estúpido : and extremely stupid, stupid
