THE COLLAPSE AT TERMINAL B
Chapter I: The Sliding Doors and the Falling Traveler
A cold morning drizzle misted the vast exterior tarmac of Riverside International Airport, where massive passenger airliners idled in the gray dawn light. Inside the bustling arrival concourse, travelers pulled heavy rolling luggage past the glass-paneled automatic doors.
Mopping the polished floor near the entrance was Clara, a nineteen-year-old cleaning attendant with vibrant auburn hair tied neatly behind her, wearing a high-visibility yellow vest over her green collared shirt and airport ID badge.
The automatic sliding doors glided open, and an elderly man in a charcoal wool coat and burgundy sweater stepped through, carrying a battered vintage leather briefcase.
Suddenly, the man's knees gave out. With a sharp gasp, he collapsed hard onto the marble floor, his briefcase skidding across the wet tiles.
Clara immediately dropped her mop handle, splashing soapy water as she dropped to her knees beside the fallen traveler. She gently cradled his trembling shoulders, steadying him on the cold floor.
"Finish your shift!" a harsh voice shouted from down the hall.
"He's freezing!" Clara called back, reaching into her cleaning caddy to uncap a fresh bottle of water and holding it to the stranger's trembling lips.
The elderly man took several desperate sips, his breathing easing as he looked up with heartfelt relief: "Thank you..."