My Son’s Warning at the Airport Changed Everything
Quasi kissed Kenzo’s forehead, then my cheek.
“Love you both.”
Then he turned and walked toward the TSA line without looking back, blending into the river of travelers heading toward metal detectors and gates.
I watched until I couldn’t see him anymore.
Only then did I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Okay, baby,” I said softly. “Let’s go home.”
We started walking toward the parking deck, our footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Stores were closing, metal grates half-pulled down. The flight boards flickered overhead with last-call announcements. People jogged past us clutching Chick-fil-A bags and backpacks.
Kenzo lagged behind, dragging his feet.
“You okay, sweetie?” I asked. “You’ve been really quiet.”
He didn’t answer.
We were almost at the glass doors when he stopped so suddenly I nearly stumbled.
