The Unexpected Connection
The air in Concourse B of O’Hare was a thick, stagnant soup of recycled oxygen, stress, and the faint, unsettling aroma of lukewarm airport coffee. Eleanor, clutching her perpetually half-empty travel mug, watched the departure board flash “DELAYED” for the third time. Her flight to Portland, meant to whisk her away to a week of serene solo hiking and a merciful break from her meticulously organized, yet soul-crushingly predictable, life as an actuary, was now indefinitely grounded. A low groan rumbled through the weary crowd, a collective sigh of dashed hopes and frayed patience.