[This was the start of a story I recently wrote while waiting for my flight at the airport.]

"May I have your attention please," shouted the gate agent over the din of voices. Suddenly, every ear in the room was giving him it's undivided attention. "We are now ready to board rows eight through fifteen for flight 665 to Wichita, Kansas. Rows eight to fifteen only."

An almost imperceptible groan resonated through the waiting area as travelers continued to wait impatiently for their own flights to not so exotic locations. However, the few passengers who actually had Wichita, Kansas as their final destination rejoiced silently in their hearts. It was finally their turn to leave this POS podunk airport located miles from anything resembling civilization.

Darcy shouldered her tattered, threadbare, denim duffel bag. It contained her entire life's possessions - some clothes, a few photos of friends, and her journal. It had only been seven hours since she left her family, running to who knows where. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her medium-length, brown hair looked like it needed a desperate washing. Greasy and knotted, her hair told the story of an unwanted, unloved young lady stumbling toward a hopeful future paved with satin sheets.

The county airport terminal was small, barely large enough to accomdate the sparse number of people waiting to depart. The carpet was almost nonexistant and the walls showed the outlines of pictures no longer there. Like Darcy, the airport was in need of a serious makeover.

As Darcy walked to the gate, no one paid her a passing glance, just as no one cared when she stepped out of her house for what she thought would be the last time. She handed her boarding pass to the ticket agent, who seemed to give her a sympathetic smile. "How many others like me has he seen though the years?" Darcy wondered. "How many others actually realized their dreams or failed miserably trying, only to come back home when there was no other choice?" She vowed she would never let it get to that point. "It won't be me," she whispered to herself, "it just can't be me."

With one final glance at her last ties to home, she spun on her heels, gritted her teeth, and strode with as much confidence as she could muster through the doorway. She emerged outside on the tarmac, having to walk directly to where the plane was parked. Yes, the airport was that small.

The prairie wind whipped up the dirt around her feet and blew her hair into a frenzy. Her favorite red ribbon which she had painstakingly tied to her hair was captured by the mini-cyclones and swept up into the heavens. "Nooooooooo!" Darcy cried out in despair as she watched the red, fluttery bird soar higher and higher until it was out of sight. A choked sob escaped her throat as she cursed her misfortune. "What a way to start off my new life," she thought despondently.