Uncategorized February

Across the airport car park, a figure in a mad dash—a sprawl of limbs in motion, with bags flapping like the wings of some disoriented bird. The bus doors have nearly closed, but the driver catches sight of this runner in his rearview mirror. A pause, a sigh, a small smile—and the doors hiss open. The figure leaps in, breathless, half-laughing[1]. “Thank you,” they gasp, relieved, settling into the first seat next to the driver. The driver smiles, a small grin softening his face.