I laid the phone face down on the vinyl bench without answering.

He called six times between ten and ten fifteen.

By the sixth call, the blue screen stayed dark, his name replaced by a single red voicemail icon, which I deleted without listening.

A ground crew worker in an orange vest walked past the window carrying two lighted batons out toward an incoming plane.

I grabbed my tote bag and walked down the broad corridor toward Departure Gate B12.

The counter by the boarding ramp was selling hot coffee in thick paper cups.