Sighting

It was two days ago. You, living in Chicago, were flying in for an engagement party. I was flying home from a business trip. You reached for my arm during takeoff because you hate flying. We got to chatting, you’re going into your final year of PA school, I’m working in Medicaid. Walked with you off the plane until your dad and his dog picked you up. I never got your name, but I wish that I had.