She wore a delicately cute outfit, what there was of it. Sitting coolly, smoking one last cigarette before her flight, she stared out at the dark void of the early morning. Her perfume wafting to passerbys lending to the sensory barrage of sounds, smells and activity of the security zone. Bleached hair and an unnaturally even tan, revealed her older than her long legs and shoulders spilling from her halter jumpsuit would have implied.
A middle aged man with the requisite dark hair with grey highlights sits at the other end of the bench. The hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail stretches out only to be caught against the bench. The beard, trying to compete with hair, rests on a grey T that falls to faded jeans.
Replacing the woman off to her flight, a young man moves athletically to his perch. He is fresh as the morning with a new maroon hat and a crisp, barely yellow shirt.
Everyone has a story. What are their hopes? Their fears? We are all different but the same.
Try being especially thoughtful to that rude stranger who seems to hate you for no reason. It is likely not all about you.