Frank steered the van into the main entrance of Kathmandu’s International Airport and followed the serpentine drive. As he looked for a place to park, Sarah gazed out her passenger window. Early morning sunshine had given way to a front of dark-bottomed clouds moving in from the south. Speeding motorbikes were threading their way around teams of men pushing over-burdened carts of supplies away from a mountain of sherpa bags near the entry pavilion to the waiting transports. Her thoughts were on last night, and Frank. They hadn’t said but two words since they left the hotel.
Frank found a spot and they got out. He collected their bags and handed them to a porter who came running up. Sarah followed him to the covered walkway near the queue of travelers outside the terminal entrance. An hour
