STRANGER IN THE SKY Social cacophony echoes through my already jumbled brain disturbing the creative synergy that struggles to flow through my literary veins as I sit in a noisy section of the JFK Airport. My jumbled mind shouts “Get me away from this unnerving racket!” Peace and solitude are nowhere to be found in this chaotic arena as I try to piece together the elements of my suspense novel. An infant begins bawling incessantly while a young couple screams at one other with contempt. The loud speaker won’t stop repeating the same flight schedules and teenagers babble in mono-syllabic grunts. Ouch, my eardrums are starting to crack from the planes taking off! I get distracted to the point of picking myself up from this noisy corner. Then, accidentally drop my prized notebook filled with dozens of plots and characters on the speckled ground. Immediately, a handsome young man around thirty, retrieves it and hands it to me. Saying “thank you,” I stand there staring mesmerized at this tall handsome stranger with the wavy chestnut hair, chocolate eyes, and alluring smile. Suddenly, the cacophony dulls to a deadpan silence as we stare speechless at each other for a few seconds. He smiles and then gets in line to board the same plane I am flying to Paris. When I arrive in my seat, I am surprised to find him sitting there next to me. Casually, we strike up a conversation about traveling to Paris and we both discover a mutual love for art. He tells me that he is a freelance artist who travels around the world, painting in exotic cities and showcasing his work to art connoisseurs. We speak endlessly about favorite artists like Degas, Ingre, Monet, and Cezanne. Then he displays some of his recent paintings from his portfolio. When the flight lands in Orly Airport, we exit the plane together, walking side by side down the runway still engaged in cultural talk. Finally, there comes a point when we have to depart and go our separate ways. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and says how much he enjoyed talking to me and happily wishes me luck in my writing career. He gives me his business card and said that if I am still in Paris during the next two weeks, I could attend his art showing. Excited yet cautious, I smile and shake his warm tender hand and sadly wave goodbye. Getting into a cab, I gaze at him through a foggy window wondering who this gorgeous stranger is and how I was lucky enough to stumble upon someone so amazing at the JFK Airport.