Taylor
I begin telling Kennedy my story from the moment I exited the airplane from my visit here last week.
As I walk through the terminal, my thoughts jump from work, to household chores, to phone calls I need to make. I wish I were still in Kansas City, not returning to face my new single status in life. With the ringing of my cell phone, I drop my carry-on to rummage through my handbag. I just turned my iPhone on. Why is it at the bottom of my purse? Wallet. Gum. Brush. Compact. Finally, I grab my phone. The screen reveals Grace, John's mother, on the ID. I should have known. I went through all the trouble to find my phone in a busy airport and it's someone I don't care to speak to.
I gather up my suitcase and head toward the exit. While walking, loud laughter catches my attention. A
