I felt it tap my foot its way to the earth. My gaze, which had been wandering from faces to storefronts to parked jumbo jets, fell to the compact triangle of blue paper leaning against my shoe. Countless footfalls and suitcase wheels flowed around me like a river around a rock as I unfolded it. Precise, geometric handwriting covered the page with a broad spectrum of disjointed feelings and half-expressed thoughts in tidy rows. Thin, horizontal lines discarded things better left unsaid. Amongst the thorns were hints of beautiful sentiments and realizations, like rosebuds on the verge of bloom. I felt a familiar tightness in my chest as I read what no one was meant to read. At the bottom of the page, a single phase was boxed and underlined:
I love you, and I’m sorry. I hope that one day that I have the courage to say these words to you in person.
Whoever you are and wherever you are, I am rooting for you.