The cellmate's flight to Ireland was cancelled due to resurgent ash. So we had a last-minute panic to get her to a ferry.
Now I'm alone again, things are simpler but it takes some adjustment after several weeks close together.
One thing I always appreciate about transit lounges is the solitude. There's time to slow right down, drink the last bottle of Weissbier, and prepare to die, just in case. Nothing matters. All farewells have been said. A good time to die.