Look at me
You cover your mouth and cough gently. This should catch his attention. But it doesn't. He leans back and turns the page of his magazine. A louder cough. He brings the magazine closer and peers into it as if it was in small print. You shift in your seat hoping that the mild commotion will cause him to look up and take notice of you. Ah you, you hope he'll say, how've you been? And from there on, you wish you'll slip into a casual conversation as if it's just been days and not 20 years since you last met and parted ways bitterly. But he continues to be absorbed in his read. You contemplate dropping your bag on the floor to get him to look your way. For a brief moment, you even consider going over and saying hello. Presently, his name is called out and he gets up to go see the doctor. He walks past you without so much as a glance in your direction. And that's when you notice what he's been reading. Instructions for an air conditioning unit. He knew.