Average height, hair mousey brown. Sort of average looking, nondescript. Hard to describe. No particular accent.
She asked me to watch her bags while she went to the loo. Airport terminals are always a bit risky – leave your stuff unattended and it either gets stolen or it’s destroyed in a controlled explosion. So of course I agreed.
Average bags, not old, not new, seen some use. No name tags, no identification. I pulled them closer for safety.
The sniffer dog whimpered, its handler smirked. I protested.
In the distance the woman melted into the crowd.
“Average height, hair mousey brown…”
Written for Friday Fictioneers’ weekly 100 word challenge. Participants are whipped into order by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.