Zoe — I Missed a Flight to a Place That Didn’t Exist

I was standing in an enormous airport with a boarding pass to a city called Bellweather. I knew the flight was important, but I could not remember why I had to go. My ticket had no seat number. Where the destination address should have been, it listed the house where I lived as a child.

The airport announcement system called out paths I had considered but never taken: a different university, a job I declined, a city I almost moved to, a relationship I did not continue. Each announcement ended with my name and the words, ‘Final opportunity to depart.’

Whenever I reached my gate, its number changed. Gate 12 became Gate 41, then became a birthday I had forgotten. The airport employees wore the faces of people I knew, but every one of them said we had never met. My suitcase grew heavier each time I asked for directions.

I opened it and found hundreds of unsent letters, each addressed to a different version of me. One began, ‘I am sorry I became the life you used as a warning.’ Another said, ‘You did not miss me. You chose before you understood the choice.’ The final boarding announcement interrupted before I could read more.

I found the gate at last, but the airplane was parked inside the terminal. Beyond its cabin door was my current apartment. An older version of me stood inside, packing the same suitcase. She asked, ‘Did you miss the flight, or did you finally decide not to go?’ Behind her, every clock showed a different time.

My boarding pass caught fire without turning to ash. The destination changed from BELLWEATHER to RETURN — ONE WAY. When I looked back, the airport was empty and the windows showed no planes, only a road climbing into the clouds. The announcement system said, ‘The journeys you do not choose continue without you.’ I woke still able to picture a city that does not exist.