The last flight in was greeted by an emptying airport. 
Shops with shutters half down as staff rushed to finish their tasks and get home. Bars closed with bar staff putting glasses back on racks. Fast food joints being swabbed down by underpaid staff too young to appreciate or be conscious of the need for food hygiene. 
An old man in overalls meandered aimlessly around the hall pushing a broom which was as wide as he was tall, an ever increasing tide of rubbish building in front of him. A single unclaimed case rode the baggage conveyor belt round and round in a desperate bid to draw attention to itself before it was scooped up by staff and condemned to be destroyed humanely on security grounds. 
The cabin crew from the flight faded away into parallel corridors reserved for pretentious pilots and glamorous trolley dollies. He strolled. 
Strolled like a man without a care in the world. Strolled like a man on the shoreline on a sunny afternoon, not heading anywhere, nowhere to be, just following the tidal line on the beach. The few passengers that had accompanied him on the flight had rushed off to meet loved ones or hail late night cabs or locate their cars in illuminated high rise car parks. He was alone strolling. 
The rails which marshal the arriving passengers towards pick up points and onward flights were idle, he had no need of them. No loved ones awaited him, they never did. His car awaited him in this place but nothing else, no-one else. He strolled outside into the night and looked up at the clear sky. Countless stars could be seen spanning the heavens. He spotted the constellations he knew and smiled. 
Standing there, looking up, he contemplated all that was ahead of him. Somewhere in the heavens, a star winked and he strolled away... 
Tagged as: Freelance Writing
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