Blue cap and shirt, black backpack.
Target spotted guv.
He’s weaving through the crowd, now shift.
It’s so bloody crowded.
He’s at passport control, get a move on.
I’m trying guv.
Well, try harder man.
Almost there guv
He’s through, push past the queue, move move move.
Officer checking my security pass guv, taking his time,
Tell him to get a move on, hurry for god’s sake.
I’m through. Lost contact.
What? What’s the matter with you?
Too many people guv. Where’s he headed?
Gates sixteen to twenty-two, no, changed direction, nine to fifteen. Shift your ass man.
Eyeball. Got eyeball. Ten, eleven, twelve…gate twelve.
They’re boarding, scoot.
There he is.
Well, grab him, now!
Excuse me sir you left these in the bar.
What? Those sunglasses? No they’re not mine. They were on the table when I got there.
Sorry to trouble you sir, have a good flight.
Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Susan Spaulding