Gate B14

Gate B14
Thumbs twitch, scroll, tap,
a silent ballet.
Beside me, a man smiles
at something only he can see.
Across the aisle,
a woman wipes a tear.
Only I see her.
In my hands, a novel,
full of people burning to be known,
where even silence means something.

Eyes do not meet.
Everyone tuned
elsewhere,
but not here.
Sharing the space,
breathing the same filtered air,
yet we pass through one another.
Ghosts in reverse.

I set my book aside,
stand, walk.
No one notices me.
The gate remains full.
Bright, cold light
from glowing screens
illuminates absent faces.
Saints of a new Order.