An older woman monologging to no one. The strangers surrounding her eagerly trying to ignore her and look the other way. Her voice is calm, smooth, and matter of fact. Her thin white hair is delicately gathered into a bun a top her head. Her clothes carefully ironed and shoes without a smudge. It is hard not to be odly comforted by her sporadic statements. It sounds like she is a well seasoned anchorwoman reading snip-it's from an old news reel.
"And how were they killed? By airplanes, without the fear of flying."
"Useless and vulgar, empty. It's a fact of life."
"And that's the size of this thing *long pause* women against women."
"A one cow country and a sleepy widow with a temper."
"I hear it's a unique thing, modern high tech. When you grab ahold of it, it has your name on it."
"The color purple; after all, I'm the richest woman in America."
And just like that she is gone. A misunderstood traveler off to catch a bus; her words to be ignored by the strangers she encounters. I bid you farewell and good luck, traveler.
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