It was Christmas Eve.
Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh field. My family and I were getting ready
to head out to New York City where we would stay in a hotel until New Year’s
Eve. My wife and I had celebrated in New York before, but never with our two
children. My son’s name was Jacob, my daughter’s name was Samantha, and my wife’s
name was Janette. Our family had always had an amazing bond, and we could not wait
to spend our favorite holiday together.
It was 7:00 and our flight was coming up. 30 minutes
until boarding time, and everything was going as planned. Next thing I knew,
both of my children were tugging at my pants begging me to take them to the
frozen yogurt shop down the hall, and of course their little puppy dog eyes
were irresistible so I took them. My wife was sleeping in a chair near our gate
so we left her there in peace.
All three of us had our yogurt and we even got one for
Janette. We were on our way back to the gate and everyone was in a good mood.
When we got back to our gate Janette was nowhere to be found. At first, we
assumed that she was in the bathroom, but she wasn’t. We waited and waited
assuming that she would be back soon, but the fight was boarding and she never
came back. We did not board the flight and we notified the police, but did they
really care?
Today is Christmas Eve 5 years later, and we still have
no Janette. Where did she go?
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