minutes left before take-off, she would sit down and order her Coke, and start discovering if Plato agreed with her. Plato was a very independant thinker, she'd heard. Dolores was sure that she could get along with him very well. She walked into the coffee shop and slid onto a stool at the counter. She watched the waitresses in the stupid little-girl aprons until one of them came up and put a glass of water in front of her. "I'd just like a small Coke," said Dolores. "Thank you." "Is this place vacant," someone asked. "No, go right ahead." She studied the title page. "That's not one of the best, you know." She looked up and saw a man on the next stool. "I just picked it up," Dolores answered. "I hadn't heard anything about it and I wanted to compare." "Oh, you're acquainted with Plato, then." "Well, no. I'm not that well read. I intend to be though." "Oh, are you a student?" he asked. "I was last year. I'm just getting started this year I'm going home till the spring quarter starts at Colorado State." "What brought you out to Utah?" he asked. "Coffee, please," he said to the waitress as she put Dolores's Coke down. "If you don't mind." Dolores had to think how she'd answer him. "I came out with my husband; his family's from here." "Your husband? How does he like your going?" "Fine." "Fine?" "I really didn't give him a choice," said Dolores. "I'm doing what I know is best and I didn't want to make the whole idea muddy." "He doesn't know yet?" "No." And you're sure about what you're doing?" "I don't know. Maybe not, but I believe I am." "Would you mind answering one question?" "I don't think you've any right to know, Mr..." "Gorg. Okay, forget it. I'm sorry." "Gorg, but I don't really care too much." "Okay," he said. "You must be peacefully married." "Yes." "So why are you leaving?" "Because I want to go back to school," said Dolores. "Yes, but why now?" "Why not now, Mr. Gorg." "Just Gorg." "I wanted to go to school and take a degree in drama long before I knew Dan." "You still haven't answered my question," he said. "Let me put it this way, Gorg, I thought that I would be lovely and content just being married when Dan proposed. I'm not. I've been 26 getting more and more restless and fidgety, lately, and I believe the best thing for Dan and me is to satisfy myself." "Isn't that rather inconsiderate?" "Wouldn't you do the same thing?" "I don't know," said Gorg. "I'm still a bachelor, but I don't think I would." "But now that I've dceided what is honestly the best, there's no excuse for wasting my time, is there." "No, I suppose not," he said, "please pardon my questions." He turned to go, but before he started, he looked at Dolores again. "You're being sincere, aren't you?" Dolores simply turned and started her book again. "Sincere," she thought, "yes, sincere.", She began reading more. Her eyes and her lips followed every word on the title page, but her mind would not grasp the fact that she wanted to study. She was left bewildered. "Of course I'm being sincere. 'Plato: A Study of the Man and His Work, by'...Dan will think I'm being sincere,...'Books, Inc. New York, N. Y.'" She turned the page. "He won't be upset after he realizes that things have to be this way. And they do. 'This book is for May, my dear wife'." Dolores looked at her watch. "Five-thirty-five--twenty minutes. Dan will just be getting home now. She finished her Coke and picked up her bag from the floor. Dolores couldn't help thinking about the question Gorg had put to her. "Why?" he had asked. "Why- Because it's best this way. It's simply best this way." With nearly a half-hour to wait in an airport, one may either sit quietly and read or think and look, or he may wander, inspect, and explore. Dolores didn't have the composure to think, so she began to walk. She walked out of the coffee shop and turned left. She had to board from gate twenty-five, and she decided to find it in advance. It wasn't difficult to find; the sign over the entrance to the North Concorse was plain enough: "Gates 20 through 39." She walked down the long hall. It was empty except for a few of the other wanderers, the occasional ashtrays, telephones, and the Mutual of Omaha insurance machine. She found her gate twenty-five, it wasn't far; and she went past it, down between the empty waiting rooms, and past the doors marked "Private." The corridor was cold and hard, bright and somber. She stopped only at the glass end of the hall and looked out on the fading city of Salt Lake. It seemed to crawl up to the mountains. It seemed that the city only began where the valley stopped being flat and started inching its way up toward the hills. Only the mountains had bright sunlight and she stood lonely, looking. Only mountains had sunlight and in short minutes, even they would be dark as the valley pulled its protective cover of noon and argon fake luminescence. The little blue and red lights of the old airport across the fields started to shine, then, and as though she were driven, 27