At the JFK Luftansa Lounge contemplating whether I should give in to another thought to you

i’m sitting in front of a french window, and the sun shines through the leaves into the room, flooding the beige walls with light. white petals from the flowers flutter to the ground as a gentle wind blows. the paint on the windows are chipped. my hands rest on piano keys. i begin playing a melody from my childhood. the music holds me for a moment before i float away, into the Vietnamese summer heat. my feet feel cool against the wooden floorboard. my body is still in that room, but my thoughts are nowhere to be found. they don’t come back. as a jazz tune floats through the heat from a different room, it reaches my window. two birds are outside talking on a branch. and i’m in here, quiet and still. some children are playing 2 floors down, in a small courtyard. it’s a warm afternoon but the fan in the corner of the room keeps the circulation of air going. the mosquitoes don’t bite, their heads are as empty as their stomachs are full. i look out the window again and know i am real, and so is this place, and so are the children, and the keys of the piano, which gently serenade me back into this little beige room.