by Chris Pavone1
Chris Pavone Katherine had seen them many times, at internationalairports, with their mountains of cheap luggage, theirfaces merging worry with bewilderment with exhaustion,their children slumped, fathers clutching handfuls of red or green passports that set them apart from blue-passported Americans.They were immigrants, immigrating.She’d seen them departing from Mexico City after a busfrom Morelia, or air transfers from Quito or GuatemalaCity. She’d seen them in Managua and Port-au-Prince,Caracas and Bogotá. Everywhere in the world she’d gone,she’d seen them. Now she is one of them. Now this is her, curbside at the airport in Frankfurt-am-Main. Behind her is a pile of eight oversized mismatched suitcases. She’d seen such gigantic suitcases before in herlife, and had thought, Who in their right mind would everbuy such unmanageable, hideous luggage? Now she knows:someone who needs to pack absolutely everything, all atonce.