And suddenly it was time to leave again, this was pretty much routine for him, after moving so many times he knew what he had to do and was very efficient at it.
He sat down in the middle of the empty flat in between his two half packed suitcases and contemplated his routine:
- Pack
- Taxi
- Check-in
- Flirt with clerk
- Security
- Waiting
- Boarding
- Take off
- One or two single serving plastic meals
- One or two beers
- Sleep
- Land
- Wake up
- Passport Control
- New place
- New people
- New food
- New friend
- Rinse and repeat
For a minute there, he thought he was an emotionless bastard that didn't mind moving and leaving people and places behind. But the truth was, that in fact, after all this time he had learnt that it was not because he didn't give a fuck but because he knew for a fact that their paths will eventually cross, it is just a matter of time. And that we are never truly apart, we choose to have relationships with people that share our vision of life and sometimes our paths, we are doing, in parallel, very similar things and that keeps us united.
He took a deep breath and continued packing with a smile on his face, knowing that he was taking a bit of his friends and leaving a bit of himself in them, and this very exchange is, for a lack of a better word, our legacy.
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