She watches from the terminal building as they drift up the rear steps of the aircraft.
She’s seen them before at the shopping mall, climbing the escalators minutes before the terrorists struck.
They’d been gathering in the foyer the night the theatre caught fire.
And gliding between the bookshelves at the city library before…
Her claims have been dismissed. Delusional, attention seeking.
“Will the two remaining passengers for Flight BA 3612 please go to Gate 17 immediately!”
Turning away, she collides with an older man.
“You see them too, don’t you?” he pleads.
“No,” she says, defiantly. “I just changed my plans.”
This morning it was almost light as I sat down at my computer (punches air with delight). Spring is on its way! Thanks to Rochelle who always has a spring in her step as she leads the Friday Fictioneers out for the weekly dance.