Ann had travelled around the world. She had been almost everywhere, first, as a kid following her father around, and then, when she was an adult, on a quest to have a place to call home.
She was forty, tall and blond, thin and looking younger than her real age. She was always tanned, of spending so much time outdoors. She spoke seven languages at a native level and five more conversationally. She had never needed to work, and she didn't spend much on anything that wasn't traveling anyway. She didn't have a family either, she had never married. Maybe, because as with her home, she couldn't settle for only one man. She had lived in all the European capital, and she had had lovers in all of them, the same could be said for most of the other countries in the world. But, as the cities, her lovers always lacked something, something that could only be found in another place, in other arms.
She had gotten used to it, of leaving things behind, of always looking for the inexistent. It was not like she was burning bridges behind her, she was sure to have a place to go back to in each an every city, because she knew that sooner or later she would miss something that was unique from the place.
One day she realized that her only real home where the airports, that it was a place where she felt comfortable, since they bore the promise to take her to other places. And that's what made her realize that she would never ever stop traveling. Since it was the only way to be home.
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