Airport

An airport. A men sits, leg crossed, on his seat. He is completing for his office-job, some paper work, but his pen hits the paper, softly and fast; he cannot write, for his mind is elsewhere, his thoughts mixed up, with the noise. The chit-chatting and complainings, people passing by. In front of him, sits a girl, leg crossed, on her seat. She is reading, for herself, her favourite book, but her eyes, move around, whithout processing; she cannot read, for her mind is elsewhere, her thoughts mixed up, with the noise. The choices made and commands given, people passing by. In front of her, sits a man, she never knew, or'll ever know, leg crossed.