IRC-Galleria

It was cold by the time they landed. This would be a moment to remember, she thought as she walked down the ramp. No one would be there expecting her, but she didn't mind. Actually she preferred it that way. Walking in with a fanfare had never been her thing. She had run this countless times over in her head. She had kept on running for years, first by changing location often enough to escape the postcards, later to elude the detectives her mother had sent to pursue her in her last act of desperation. Eventually her trail was lost for good, and she had grown quite sure the only chance of discovery was by mere luck. And that never happened. She had been to various parts of the world, first to lose her tail, but hence forth to evade the creeping shadow that would always seem catch her after she'd remained in one place for long enough. She was never too keen to leave, but felt the urge to keep moving forward. After the first episodes, it became a habit for her to suddenly disappear, change name and lose herself in the new surroundings. She had felt so lost for the past years, but didn't feel like she really belonged anywhere else any better. She had crossed the world with a mill stone around her neck, dragging the burden with her anywhere she went, and relocated once it started to become apparent.

Once she had sworn never to return to her mother, her vision of everything sinister and abusive. The years hadn't been any more tender on her either, she knew, but it didn't keep her from tarrying her return. Even on the very day she had finally taken the last step towards a conclusion, and stepped on the flight, she saw no more a resolution as on the day she left. She had prayed all these years that she would one day find the courage to return after she was no longer expected, or even expecting to return herself. Today was that day. She had finally come back, and was taking hesitant steps in through the terminal, using any stimuli she could to procrastinate even further. To give herself time to think it all through. But the truth was, no thought could make her any readier to face everything she had hoped to part for good. She had gone through it all these years over and over: nothing would change. She had led a life of elusion, of thoughts, of memories, of this very moment that was to come; there was nothing else that could define her. Nothing would change, she thought, so she wouldn't lead a life aiming to find a resolution that didn't exist. She walked past the sign that said "Departures," turned left and all her hesitation was gone - she had lost nothing.