Alone in No-Man's-Land

The old woman sat in a wheelchair. She had short gray hair and drooping shoulders. Her eyes flashed as she turned her head back and forth watching the activity in the concourse. She wore a blue cotton T-shirt that was too large for her and was probably why her shoulders seemed to slump so much.

Behind the wheelchair, a younger woman pushed the old woman in black and pulled a suitcase of her own. She wore khaki shorts and a loose-fitting black top. She wheeled the chair alongside a row of empty seats.

In the distance ahead a TV blared, and a throng of people was crowding to board a plane. In the distance behind another TV blared, and a crowd sat before it mesmerized. Here, where the old and the younger woman sat between the blaring TVs, there was nobody else around. Here, in no-man's-land, was where the wheelchair got parked.

Ok, the younger woman announced. She towered over the old woman. Her face was several feet away as she spoke. What do you want to eat?

The old woman in blue turned her head and looked up at the woman in black with a blank expression on her face -- not an empty one: a tentative, I'm-thinking-about-it look. This was an airport, after all, and they were in a barren no-man's-land. What were the choices? Before she could answer, the younger woman in black said, Do you want a hamburger? The old woman in black nodded, and the younger one walked off, leaving the old woman behind sitting alone in no-man's-land.

Five minutes are so passed, and the younger woman in black returned. She had two bottles of water and a single, plain hot dog in a bun, which she thrust into the old woman's hands.

I got you a hot dog, she said. And water.

She handed her one of the bottles and walked off again in the direction of the phones. The old woman in blue sat alone in her wheelchair eating her hotdog in no-man's-land.

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