A small boy spent about three hours going through the different airport terminals. He had a backpack equipped and tried a hefty amount of chocolate from the international shops. Then he read magazines. He watched the planes take off and land in the distance behind the wide clear glass panes.
“Is that boy by himself,” Angela, a shop clerk from a from a newsstand, asked.
“It happens,” Carl, a janitor, said. “If they show a ticket, they’re good.”
“Carl, my son has the attention span of a gnat. That boy could’ve missed his flight hours ago.”
“When do you expect him to learn,” Carl asked. “Serious question. Because his parents or guardian took him here. I guarantee you he’s fine.”
“We have to protect the kids, Carl. What if a stranger tries to take advantage of him?”
“What if a stranger takes advantage of you? Or me?” Angela turned to him and gave him a look. “What,” Carl asked.
“I’m not talking to you right now, Carl,” Angela said, rolling his eyes.
“Ten bucks says he’s fine when I ask him,” Carl said, watching the boy carefully.
“I will not engage in betting activities,” Angela said, slapping Carl on the shoulder. “You better go ask him.”
“Fine,” he replied, shaking his head.