“Look at her shoulders.

That’s something else.”

I kept my eyes on the red digital clock mounted over the scanner arch, watching the minutes tick away one by one while the line behind me grew restless and the bins piled up on the rollers.

Four minutes later the supervisor came over, tapped a green plastic keycard against the reader, and put my papers back in my hand.

“You’re cleared for Gate C27, Lieutenant Colonel,” the supervisor said.