Someone near the central tree produced a deck of cards and began organizing strangers into a game. The airport no longer felt like a place people were passing through. It felt like a temporary village built by inconvenience. Jack found a blanket for Claire and another for himself.
They sat close enough that sharing warmth became plausible rather than romantic, which made it more romantic. “Tell me something true,” Claire said. “That’s broad.” “Something you don’t usually tell people on the first day.”
Jack looked at her. “This is still the first day?” “Technically.” He considered.
“I got offered a job in Boston last month,” he said. Claire straightened slightly. “Doing libraries?” “Civic projects. Libraries, schools, community buildings.”
“That sounds exactly like what you said you wanted.” “It pays less.” “So?” “My father would call it irresponsible.”
“You’re thirty.” “Yes.” “You know that, right?” He smiled. “Most mornings.”
“Do you want it?” “I haven’t answered.” “Why?” Jack looked down at his hands. “Because sometimes the people who know your old life best can make wanting a new one feel childish.”
Claire absorbed that. Then she said, “I got offered a photography assistant job in Chicago.” Jack looked up. “It pays worse,” she added.