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The girl answered her ringing phone without missing a beat. “OMG Tina! Did you like really go out with Brian last night?”
Michael’s shoulders slumped. He stood there for another awkward second, then slowly turned and shuffled away, the wheels of his little carry-on squeaking sadly across the tile.
He dropped into a hard plastic chair near the windows and stared out at the Missoula Airport tarmac. Fat snowflakes drifted down in the gray afternoon light, steadily covering everything in soft white. The Montana mountains in the distance looked cold and endless.
Michael pulled his knees up slightly in the chair, wrapping his arms around them, his worn Dragon Ball Z hoodie doing almost nothing against the chill seeping through the glass, and rested his head on his knees.
He really, really, really missed Isabelle.
Isabelle!
She’ll know what to do. She’ll probably get me a car or something… and maybe an organic snack…
Michael fumbled his phone out of his hoodie pocket, almost dropping it. The screen glowed weakly at two percent. Of course the temp assistant — whose name he had already deleted from memory as a coping mechanism — had packed his European adapter instead of the US one. Which was somehow his fault. And somehow fine, because she had “an iPad he could borrow.”
Okay, okay. Not a big deal. I’ll just call real quick.
He found Isabelle’s number on the speed dial, heart lifting a little.
Okay...calling...go go go go...oh...
The call screen blinked once… then went black.
“Oh… for the love of Obi-Wan…” Michael whispered, staring at the dead phone in genuine despair.
He was now without an assistant, without a functioning device, without a rental car, and standing in the middle of the Missoula Airport with only a single carry-on because his actual luggage had apparently decided to vacation in Geneva.
He had not been to Geneva.
Michael looked down at his soggy red Converse sneakers and wiggled his freezing toes.
I'm cold. And hungry. And I keep itching... stupid airplane food...
He slumped deeper into the plastic chair, staring out at the snow swirling outside in the gray afternoon light.
His mind drifted back to Tokyo.
The last time he’d gone to Japan with Isabelle it had been magical. Like… lvl 20 wizard magical! She’d gone with him to every cat café, every arcade, every anime convention, laughing and taking pictures like the whole country was putting on a show just for them. He’d taken her to a cosplay store in Akihabara and watched, mesmerized, as she spent forty-five minutes trying on elaborate headpieces — from Sailor Moon’s golden tiara to Zero Two’s little red horns. When he tried on a samurai helmet that was comically too big and accidentally knocked over a Hatsune Miku display with the prop sword, she laughed so hard she had to hold onto his arm to stay upright.
He smiled at the memory.
Then he thought about the temp assistant standing in front of that same store just three days ago. He’d asked, a little shyly, if she wanted to go inside with him. She had suggested they go to a love hotel instead.
Michael had frozen, face burning hot, brain short-circuiting. He’d stuttered something about… needing to check on server logs back at the hotel? Or maybe it was a meeting? He couldn’t even remember what excuse he’d blurted out. All he knew was that the suggestion had scared him more than anything had in a long while. For the 167th time that trip he had wished Isabelle was with him. She would know what to do. She always did.
In the end he’d just shoved a thick envelope of cash into her hands and mumbled something about taking the rest of the trip off and enjoying Tokyo on her own. Then he’d practically fled back to his hotel room, grateful for the nice cab driver who reminded him of the old guy from The Karate Kid.
Michael looked around the quiet terminal, suddenly feeling very small. The snow outside kept falling, soft and endless, and the weight of being completely alone pressed down on him.
What do I do now?
Isabelle had been with him for so long. Before Ursidae Capital blew up, his life had been built on careful, rigid routines just so he could function in the world. Same restaurants. Same routes. Same safe people. He never talked to strangers if he could help it. And then Isabelle had quietly stepped in and started handling everything — and somehow, everything had become… easier. Clear. Manageable.
Without her, he felt like a kid who’d wandered away from his mom in a crowded store.
His eyes stung. He wiped at them quickly, embarrassed.
“Excuse me, dear?”
