The Ghost At Gate 14. The pale, pre-dawn light of 5 a.m… | by Jay | Sep, 2025
The pale, pre-dawn light of 5 a.m. found him in the hushed, artificial glow of the terminal. His luggage was checked, his cab long gone. He moved through the space on autopilot, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the vastness.
Then he saw them.
Far off, slumped against a pillar, a boy — maybe twenty-one — sat on the cold floor with a girl nestled against his shoulder. There was a familiarity in the slope of his shoulders, the way he laughed quietly at something she said. As he drew closer, a jolt of recognition, sharp and unexpected, hit him.
It was him.
Six years ago, at this very airport in Changsha. A ghost from his own past, preserved in time. He was that boy, sitting on that same unforgiving floor, leaving the city for an unknown destiny, his stomach a tight knot of fear and excitement.
The boy’s face was tired, smudged with the grime of a long night, but it was alight with a hope so bright it was almost painful to see. It was the incandescent shine of youth, of vigor, of a future still unwritten, gleaming with untarnished promise.
The man’s breath caught. Almost involuntarily, his hand went to his pocket, pulling out his cellphone. The black screen offered a stark reflection: a 29-year-old man, his face a mask of weary composure. The shine was gone, replaced by a stern, mature stillness he couldn’t remember choosing. The contrast was a physical blow.
He shook his head, a quiet, dismissive gesture meant for himself alone. Before he could second-guess the impulse, he walked over, his shadow falling across the pair on the floor. The boy looked up, his bright, hopeful eyes squinting against the terminal lights.
His voice, when it came, was softer than he intended. “Excuse me,” he began.
The boy’s eyes met his, clear and questioning, but held no spark of recognition. It was like looking into a calm pool that reflected nothing of his own past.
“Do you need some help?” the boy asked, his tone polite but cautious.
His attempt at a smile felt stiff on his face. “I… I’d like to offer you some advice.”
“Advice?” The boy’s head tilted, curious but slightly guarded.
The words came out in a rushed, urgent stream, as if they’d been dammed up for years. “Wherever you’re going, just remember this. Life will throw opportunities at you. Take them. Don’t get lazy. Don’t get too comfortable. Focus on one thing at a time — multitasking is a trap. And don’t… don’t ever let your fears or your emotions make your choices for you.”
He finished, slightly breathless. But when he looked, the boy was gone. Not a trace remained. He was just a man alone, speaking to a cold, empty pillar.
The silence around him felt heavy. He became acutely aware of eyes on him — a few scattered travelers, staring before quickly looking away. A flush of heat crept up his neck.
He had been talking to no one but himself.
