The Cadenza

The doors part with a sigh, releasing you into the murmur of the arrivals terminal. The brightness strikes your eyes harder than expected, leaving you momentarily disoriented. A sea of onlookers leans against the railing, their eager faces eager to catch sight of loved ones.

An elderly man in a black suit stands apart from the others. He holds a tablet, and his bowler hat obscures most of his face. On the screen, your name appears in crisp Helvetica.

“There you are.” He grips your hand with quiet authority.

“My driver?” you ask, though the question feels redundant.

“I’m Antonio. The car is just parked outside.” He takes your leather satchel and begins walking toward the exit.

“Before we go, I’d like to use the bathroom.”

“Naturally. It was a long flight. However, we’re on a rather tight schedule as your flight was delayed. Preparations have already begun and guests are expected within the next two hours, leaving little time to rehearse.”

You try to recall the details of your schedule. “I’ll only need a few minutes.”

“The hotel is just ten minutes away. It’s best to wait until we arrive and stick to the schedule. The journey will be quick.”

You nod, though the pressure in your abdomen continues to rise. The car’s interior smells of lemon polish and damp soil. Cold water pools across the floor mat, almost reaching your ankles. Antonio makes no mention of it, nor does he appear concerned. The chill seeps in through your shoes and rises up your legs.

His eyes flicker in the rearview mirror between you and the road. He looks away each time your gaze meets his.

The vehicle moves past the toll gate and merges onto a four-lane highway. He accelerates and you’re pulled deeper into your seat. Cars and trees blur past, indistinct in the periphery.