MC - p.s.post scriptumMC - p.s. by Eeba-ism
'Do you want to get coffee?' Monica asked, her eyes fixed on the huge screens above them.
Her flight had been delayed twenty minutes, it read. When she pulled her eyes away she looked out the glass walls of the airport atrium. It was deep night, the sky was black, washed of any blue by light pollution.
'Sure,' Farrere said, watching her.
She didn't seem to see anything she looked at.
'Is your brother meeting you at the airport?' he asked quietly.
'Yes,' she now looked out across the cafés and stores. She reached out a hand for her bag handle, but it was further than she'd calculated.
Farrere felt like something of an expert on how to recognise sleep deprivation now. He lifted Monica's bag by its strap onto his shoulder before she could fully comprehend what he was doing.
'Let's get coffee,' he said, starting towards the cafés. She nodded, smiling, falling in step with him.
At the counter, he paid before she could, but she didn't argue.
He watched her stir