Airport Romance

Umar hid under the bed, the Police had removed the bodies and were dusting for prints and taking photographs, he had been under the bed for five hours already, he couldn’t quite work out why no-one had searched there. Hope began to spring up in his mind that he might actually remain undiscovered and get out of the hotel room.
Umar had worked at Heathrow for two years, on the most part he kept himself to himself, there were very few Hungarians in his shift patterns and most of the others thought of him as strange, one of only friends was Timor. Umar hoped that one day it could be more than just friendship Umar loved him, but Timor wasn’t gay. This didn’t bother Umar, everyone was gay or in denial as far as Umar was concerned. What did bother him was Timor seemingly incomprehensible fascination with Rita, she and him spent most of their time together and this really upset Umar.
“Umar, what do you think of Rita.” Said Timor nudging him.
“Not my type.” Replied Umar
“Oh yer, what’s your type them.” Continued Timor
“Oooo I don’t know, none of the women here though.”
“Oh come on you must like someone.”
“Not really” lied Umar smiling at Timor. Timor suspected Uma might be gay he wasn’t bothered by it, he liked Uma for being quiet and kind and those were the important things, he didn’t feel it was right to put him on the spot, he was sure Umar would open up to him when he was ready.
“Lets go and get a coffee,” said Timor to his mate and they went over to their regular Costa Coffee outlet in the airport. Sitting and drinking their coffee Timor was telling Umar that tonight might the big night for him and Rita, he had booked a hotel room at the airport and he was meeting up with Rita after the shift ended to….at which point Timor winked at him. Uma forced a smile and sipped his coffee, inside the rage built, he was making such a fool of himself on that stupid women being lured to bed by that witch. Umar made his excuses saying that he had to get back to work and patted Timor on the shoulder, “I’ll see you later” he said. Timor watched him go and felt sorry for him, if only he would open up. Then Rita showed and he immediately forgot about his mate, he hugged her and kissed on the lips, she blushed and told that they shouldn’t kiss in the middle of the airport and then kissed him again.
“What time do you get off” asked Timor.
“Seven” replied Rita.
“I’ll meet at exit B, yes.”
“Can’t wait” replied Rita, and they parted, holding on to each others hand until their arms were outstretched.
The afternoon dragged on for Timor who was excited about the evening ahead, he couldn’t focus on the huge broom he pushed around the airport and rubbish kept slipping over the overloaded broom head, not that he cared. Eventually it was seven o’clock, the end of the shift, he went to the staff changing rooms, changed, got his overnight bag and headed for exit B. As he left Umar stood behind one of the huge columns watching him go. Then he saw him and Rita embrace outside the exit, Umar fingered the knife in his pocket he had liberated from one of the airport kitchens earlier that day. As they departed Umar followed. He followed them all the way to the hotel and watched them check in, he loitered just outside in the dark and watched being handed room key for room thirty four, then they went upstairs. Umar mind swirled in confusion, he couldn’t let this happen, not to his lovely Timor, he couldn’t loose his Timor, they could still be together, the knife handle felt slippery with the sweat of Umar’s enraged hand. He entered the hotel and went upstairs. Finding room thirty four he stood in front of the door, blood pumped through his veins as though they would burst, he wished they would burst. He knocked on the door.
Rita answered, she was still dressed, “Cow” he shouted and plunged the knife into her stomach, she reeled backwards into the room. Following her in as she stood with her hands around her stomach he approached her with knife in hand, Timor jumped up off the bed and lunged towards Umar, he impaled himself on the knife before Umar could withdraw it, Umar cried out. Timor sank to his knees and collapsed, Umar knelt down touching his face, he was dead. Umar looked up at Rita, “Look what you’ve done” he cried and raise the knife above his head, in frenzy he stabbed and stabbed and stabbed Rita who eventually collapsed, he knelt over her continuing to stab her on the floor while sobbing. At that moment someone appeared at the hotel room door she screamed and ran off. Umar went back to Timor and stroked his face still sobbing and then the footsteps were approaching the door, he climbed under bed, one hand clasped around his mouth the other still clutching the knife.
It had been five hours he had been under the bed and the Police were still there, he had for a few moments hoped he would remain undetected, but hope was washed away by despair, he looked at the black boots of the policeman around him and he slowly drew the knife across first one wrist and then the other. Under the bed he drifted off for a long sleep, drowsily he dreamt of being with Timor in death as he should have been in life. In the distance he heard shouting then the police pulled him out from beneath the bed.