He joylessly ate a chicken salad wrap, alone on a bench, alone in an airport.

He thought about airports. A place people go to go places. A crowded waiting room. A miserable place filled with people who want to be somewhere else. He hated it, all of it.

He hated the people who rushed to be in line - the people who rushed to wait. He laughed at the people running to catch a flight - the people who waited too long. He hated them too. There’s no room for love in an airport.

He hated delayed flights as much as he hated early flights.

He hated sudden joy as much as he hated disappointment. He preferred an unpleasant flight to an unexpected flight.

He once wished his plane would crash into his house. He hated cabs more than he hated planes.

He didn’t believe in life and death. He believed in boredom because he knew it was real.