At the Airport

Tomas flies to Ireland for a week. It is his first flight alone. He packs one big suitcase and one small bag.

His aunt lives in a small town near the sea. She writes him long letters. "Bring warm clothes," she writes. "And bring your camera."

At the airport he waits in a long queue. A woman takes his suitcase. "Have a good flight," she says. Tomas smiles.

Tomas is a little nervous. He checks his ticket four times. Then he sits at the gate and watches the planes outside.

The flight is short. Tomas drinks a tea and looks out of the window. Below him he sees the sea and grey clouds.

The plane lands at four o'clock. Tomas walks to the baggage hall. He stands at the belt and waits for his suitcase.

Bags come and go. People take their bags and leave. After twenty minutes the belt stops. Tomas is alone in the hall.

An old woman waits with him. She looks at the empty belt too. "Mine is not here either," she says. "This happens often."

He is not happy. His clothes are in the suitcase. His shoes too. "Where is my bag?" he says.

Tomas goes to the desk. A young man asks, "What is your name? What colour is your suitcase?" Tomas answers, "Tomas Lindt. It is green."

The man looks at his computer. "Your suitcase is still in Berlin," he says. "It comes tomorrow morning. We bring it to your hotel."

In the taxi he opens the window. The air smells of salt and rain. He writes to his aunt: "I am here. My suitcase is not."

Tomas is tired, but he says thank you. He buys a toothbrush and a T-shirt in a small shop. Then he takes a taxi.

The next morning somebody knocks at the door. The green suitcase stands in the hall. Tomas laughs. "Hello, old friend," he says.