You are early. Unnecessarily early, the way you always are when the trip ahead feels significant. Your gate, B47, sits in a row of identical gates, half-empty at this hour. You find a seat in the middle of the row, stow your bag, and settle in to wait.

That’s when you notice them.

They’re sitting a few seats to your left, one empty chair between you. They’re not doing anything remarkable. Just scrolling on their phone, a single leather backpack at their feet. They glance up at the departures board, then back down. Their movements are calm, deliberate. Out of sync with the latent urgency humming through the building.

You look back at your own phone. The screen is blank. You look up again, without really meaning to.