They said to meet on the main concourse. “Stand under the main light fixture, we’ll find you,” they had said.
So here we stand.
People hurry by, commuters, tourists, the idle and the rich.
Jeffrey stands with me. It’s hard for him as waiting isn’t something he does well.
We look about trying to find a familiar face, but none come into view.
“Maybe they forgot,” Jeffrey said kicking the ground. “maybe we were supposed to come tomorrow?”
I try to form a plan B. No language, no map. I feel desperate.
“Hello Ostralians,” says a gruff but familiar voice.