Hyun Jae Won was oblivious to all of Wings of Korea Airline’s amenities.  His artist’s eyes took in the grays, blacks and whites of the terminal and likened them to Asian charcoal sketches, with flowing lines to symbolize flight.  The slender forty-six-year-old with biceps so hard they stretched the black silk sleeves above his elbows, sat motionless on one of a row of plastic and metal chairs.  Even now, with Wendy well on her way home, he could feel her hand on his arm sending shock waves through them both.  As if the movement could conjure her, he placed his own palm on his upper arm pretending it covered hers.