Forty minutes to transfer terminals

She tugged at his jacket.  ‘Put it on later.’

He snatched his bag from the tray and shuffled after her, clutching his belt.

A tinny voice announced: ‘Final call for flight ...’

‘Geoff, come-on!’

‘I’m coming.’ 

‘We’re going to miss it!’

‘We’ve got fifteen minutes.’

‘That’s when it departs, not when they close the doors.  Hurry up!’

They half-walked, half-jogged through a shopping mall masquerading as a departure lounge, reaching a corridor that seemed to go on for forever. 

He slowed to a walk, panting.  ‘Forget it, Sandy.  We’re not going to make it.’ 

‘Geoff! Come-on.’ 

They started jogging again.



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words