(For Meu Amor)

There is an airport in the mountains, somewhere cold. It is so small that only three planes can dock at a time. A few people sit in a waiting area at the end of a corridor, a few others are walking about.

One man stands alone near a window, checking his watch. He is wearing a heavy coat. He has unruly, blonde hair. His face shows concern. Outside, snow is falling. After a moment, he walks over to the woman at a small ticket counter.

"I'm waiting for my friend to arrive," he tells her. "The plane is late."

"The weather has caused some delays," the woman responds.

"Will the pilot be able to land in the snow?" the man asks. "My friend has had a long flight, already."

"I'm sure your friend will be fine," the woman says. She is not interested.

The man returns to the window to watch the sky. When a plane approaches, he begins to pace. He bites his lip. He runs his fingers through his hair. He watches the plane land safely, and breathes an evident sigh of relief. He takes off his coat.

A crowd moves in to greet loved ones. As passengers step off the plane, one face emerges, darker than the others--pretty, yet masculine at the same time. This man's face shows the exhaustion of many hours on a plane. His eyes search the airport frantically.

The crowd parts, and the two men see each other. They pause for a moment as if unsure, as if perhaps they have not seen each other for a very long time. But there is an energy between them so strong that everyone else in the airport turns to watch as they rush towards one another.

Exhaustion and concern melt away as they fall into each other's arms. For a moment the embrace is enough, but then, without a care for what anyone else might think, one man's lips find the other's, and the crowd gasps--not from shock at this public display, but from the sheer, evident, uncompromising devotion, and the undeniable passion of this long-awaited kiss.