The Ride Home

Premonition

Reports were submitted, to-do lists composed, goodbyes bade, farewell meals cooked (and consumed), bread purchased, chocolates stuffed into impossible suitcase crevices, clandestine discussions carried out, sleep foregone, batteries recharged, to-do lists misplaced, buses boarded at ungodly hours- and I found myself on the same train as I had seventy six days ago. Admittedly, I was too preoccupied with the Deathly Hallows to soak in the sights this time, but Frankfurt airport brought me back to the muggle world with a resounding thud that must have sounded similar to an egg cracked too hard on the edge of a pan.

Why, you ask?

Yes, the airport was mind bogglingly monstrous (more easily navigated by segways, I would think) and bustling with people scampering in all directions except towards where the signs point to. What really made me put down the book, though, was my boarding pass, and the smattering of forty twos on it- the gate I was supposed to board from, the seat I was alloted, and the number on a baggage identification tag.

42.

Forty two.

Something was up- and I was determined to keep my eyes open for something unusual.

Revelation

About two hours into the leg-space-less flight, it struck. What struck is irrelevant- Something that hadn't made sense in a long time- happened (and made less sense than ever), and I realized that had the conspicuous forty twos not preceded the incident, I might have missed it completely.

The rest of the flight was spent in trying to make sense of what had happened, and in trying to find a way to put it up here without being explicit.

Homecoming

The roads seemed tiny, the traffic crazy, the smoke stinging, the weather damp and foul, the time lead disconcerting- but these quibbles disappeared in the elation of reaching my destination- home.

And so it ended.