[center][h1][i][color=goldenrod]She[/color][/i][/h1][/center]

She caught her head in a downward drift, blue eyes flashing open to fight off sleep’s approach. It was late, late enough that some people would start calling it early, but not early enough for the coffee stand to roll its shutters up so she could buy a matcha latte and a croissant. Her stomach growled. Poor planning on her part, taking an overnight layover without having the money to book a nearby hotel and too full of burning pride and cold fury to call up Dad for an assist. He had disapproved of her plan to travel to NYC, especially when it was to meet with some stranger from the Internet. She tried explaining it to him, but she couldn’t tell him the whole story. In the end, she had just gotten her brother to drive her to the airport.

That downward drift again. This time she snapped her head back so fast it hurt. The terminal was empty, but she didn’t trust falling asleep in it. There were enough cameras around that she felt certain that nobody would do anything, but there was nobody else around to guarantee that [i]something[/i] would do nothing. It was hard enough sleeping at home. Here? It’d be damn near impossible. Maybe on the plane, [i]maybe[/i], but while alone? Not happening. Her stomach rumbled again. Her eyes drifted to the vending machine. If not a croissant, then maybe some stale animal crackers. She had enough change for it, but she needed her change. She couldn’t spare a single penny. Did it take card? 

Down, down, down her head drifted.

She bolted up from her seat and whipped around frantically with a fistful of quarters. The terminal had shifted. The vending machine was gone, replaced by an empty, street lit trash can. The uncomfortable chair with the broken cushion was gone, swapped into a metal bench with an advertisement on the back. The faint smell of toilet cleaner and sweaty businessmen had, thankfully, disappeared too, replaced with a crisp, clean air. It was the kind of air country people liked to take a big old sniff of and brag about before striking up their twelfth cigarette that hour. It kind of smelled like home. Her original home, not the new place they were all staying. There was one problem with that sentiment: she was over a thousand miles from home. The terminal hadn’t shifted. The terminal had vanished, or rather, she had vanished from the terminal.

A dream? She looked to the sky. Normal, black sky, only orange coming from the sleeve of her sweater as she focused on the palms of her hands. She took a quarter from her pocket, flipped it, and studied the result. Tails, commemorative state one for  Virginia, black speck on the right most flag. She looked away, and then back to the quarter: tails, commemorative state for Virginia, black speck on the right most flag. She flipped it again, turned it over to the back, and studied it one more time. Same result. Reality, then.

She was in a courtyard. She looked up at the building around her. They were New York-ish, but she imagined any buildings taller than five stories to be New York-ish. She looked at the ad on the bench she’d woken up on. There was the face of a smiling, bronze woman next to a slogan that said “Welcome to Paradise”. She smiled in response. Paradise, is it? She’d always imagined it to be sandy beaches or fluffy clouds, but skyscrapers and empty streets would do. She continued to smirk as she wondered how long the advert would be up before it got removed for copyright infringement. Well, if it’s Paradise, then maybe there were no more lawyers. 

She left the courtyard and wandered out into the street. There was a noticeable drop in temperature and she pulled her cardigan tight around herself as her boots went from clacking on concrete to crunching through snow. Weird. The street was empty except for the glow of streetlight. It was lined with office buildings and bodegas, every single window dark. Not a single car was parked on the side of the street, not a single bum was sleeping on a stoop, not a single footprint was in the snow aside from her own. There was nobody else around. That was even weirder, but not an entirely unwelcome life change.   

"Yooooooooo!” Fuck, nevermind then. “Anybody here?!"

Another traveller who had completely missed their flight, perhaps? The voice came from the t-junction down the way. She moved slowly to the intersection, slipping one hand into her pocket and the other to rest on her bag. She peered around the corner. A block away stood a girl facing the other way, looking towards a boy in a white sweater as he approached her. Was that a guitar case on his back? She scoffed. The most she had learned from college was that at every party there was always the asshole who showed up with an acoustic guitar. Apparently, this weird Paradise was no exception. Above the two, perched on the edge of a low roof like a black cat, was a girl in a black beret, whose less than cat-like-reflexes saved herself from falling. She stifled a laugh as she watched the girl recover. 

“Well, it ain’t nearly as empty as it first seemed,” she said, announcing her presence to the others, pushing her words past the pen hanging from her lips. Ain’t? What was it about being in a big city that drew the repressed country twang out? Would she spit on the ground next and thumb her belt buckle? She brushed a loose strand of blonde hair out of her eye and continued, “The rest of y’all fall asleep in the airport, too, or am I outing myself for...” 

She stopped as the girl with blue streaks in her hair turned and she saw her face for the first time. Blue’s face was an unexpected, but not unwelcome, sight. The blonde relaxed her shoulders, jutted out her hip, and plucked the pen from her mouth. A sly smile wormed its way across her face.

She knew this one.

“Hey stranger. Been a minute. Anyway...” she dragged the word out as she gestured with her pen between the two actual strangers.  "What is the deal with the two of you?"