Passengers
stories around goodbyes
I woke up at noon with an unbearable headache, but after a few seconds, and after feeling the cold floor under my bare feet, I remembered the cool breeze from last night’s outing, and Christina—how time slipped away from us, along with our inhibitions, in just a few drinks. I was still in my pajamas when a trace of her perfume reached me; I leaned toward my shoulder and closed my eyes, wanting to feel her close once more. I got out of bed and went straight to the Airbnb kitchen to warm some water for coffee, then headed to the bathroom cabinet where I had left my toiletry bag with my aspirin. Yesterday at this time I didn’t know Christina, yet now she flooded my thoughts. We talked for hours without stopping; it felt as if we were meeting again after a long time apart. We were on the eleventh floor of the most famous rooftop in Madrid. It was already past midnight, so we decided to leave. It was just her and me in the elevator, and between the second and first floor—right before the doors opened—she leaned in and kissed me on the spot between my neck and cheek, leaving me paralyzed for a few seconds. I felt my whole body light up when she looked at me, and I blushed like a teenager. We left the building, said our goodbyes, and she took her taxi. A two-day business trip turned into a two-year stay. We saw each other again after that night, and we never stopped.
By Dafne Venet, Mexico
Lives are fleeting. We are here to leave someday, to say goodbye and never return—or maybe not. Coincidence, in that sense, becomes something magical, miraculous. Out of all the possibilities of not finding each other, we did. We were given that gift, and all that’s left is to enjoy it. But we are expectant beings; we create expectations all the time. And maybe this condition is one of the most painful parts of life, because those expectations rarely materialize. They break our hearts, they bring us to tears. I believed I would see her again after we left the building, said our goodbyes, and she took her taxi.
By Antonio López, Mexico
There was a time when he was impossibly dear to me—so dear that our bond felt like something that didn’t quite belong to this world. We never spoke about it; we didn’t need to. It was a quiet connection, a kind of admiration held tenderly from a distance. One day, we went on a trip with some friends. We laughed, wandered, shared small moments that felt bigger than they looked. And when the day finally came to an end, it was time to return to our separate lives. We left the building, said our goodbyes, and he took his taxi. That was it. We headed toward our destinations, never imagining that this might be our last goodbye. We let each other slip into the distance, into forever. Now, no one knows where he is, and he doesn’t know where I am either. And somehow, that silence feels heavier than any words we never said.
By Hira Rana, Pakistan
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