An uncomfortable calm permeates the terminal. Future passengers, on their way to vacation destinations or business conferences, seem not to care at all about the war going on in my home. And why should they? But I can’t shake the feeling, the unease, as if I am walking in a parallel universe, a different plane of existence in which I can see them, but I am invisible to their perception. My heart feels as if it beats audibly, but they walk by smiling, drinking their hot coffee, rushing to visit grandma, and pay it no mind.