“When does your flight leave?” The man in line behind Clare finally exclaimed as a little white drop of spittle came flying out of his mouth and onto Clare’s ticket. He was red-faced, pushing nearly every square inch of his body on Clare.
“7:30 am,” Clare warned, seeing perfectly well that his flight wasn’t until 9:00 am.
And yet, the pressure on Clare’s corporeal form did not relent.
Clare herself was starting to get a little huffy and nervous about missing their connection. It was 7:20 am after all and who knew what Emma would do in Geneva if they missed their connection. Clare’s eyes frantically scanned the line for the tiny-mustached Line Policeman who gave the all-clear for cutting.
Ah, found! Caroline batted her eyes and they were immediately ushered to the short “emergency” line for close connections. The line still moved slowly. Clare’s brain began screaming.
Finally they got through to the passport window. Clare turned around to thank the Line Policeman when she saw the Asian line cutter had sneaked into the emergency line behind Clare and Caroline. He smiled at Clare dopily.