In the Cincinnati Airport

You can’t get directly to or from North Carolina. There’s always a connection. Tonight, it’s Cincinnati. As I was sitting here, typing away, I noticed a woman to my right eating popcorn. Not so unusual, except that her plastic bag of fake yellow, pre-popped corn filled her entire carry on. She munched beside me for a good 20 minutes, staring into space, hand to bag, hand to mouth, aimlessly crunching. When the boarding announcement for her flight was made, she unzipped the limp duffel bag on the seat beside her, placed the bag of popcorn in it, filling her carry on, slung it over her shoulder, and made her way to the gate, motion uninterrupted. Hand to bag, hand to mouth, step, step, hand to bag, hand to mouth, step, step…