Customs

He loathes the notice next to the milky, opaque glass doors that quotes an airport by-law prohibiting access to the luggage pick-up area. The doors continuously slide open to reveal all kinds of people, none of them her. Some cast around the anxious look of the first-time visitor; some smile broadly, back on home turf. Some run and jump into the embraces of spouses or lovers; others solemnly shake the hand of their business escort in suit and tie.
His stomach gets more painful as time goes by, until the door finally opens to reveal her, and all is well.