Early and not long after receiving her ticket, Quisi hurdled a curmudgeonly ankle biter and, indubitably, a python escapee. She avoided all apologies and petitions and headed correctly to the escalator.
A poster appeared: "Handsome Kiev Palace, Worth Millions, Yours For A Magical Weekend. Please contact Elizabeth Grimm."
Although she seriously had to pee, this suggestion remained forefront.
Various unwarranted text messages skirted the atmosphere into her phone, but she ignored everything here at this mangy airport, except maybe the bounce of the Dean Martin Christmas follies and the unavoidable re-conjuring of that Contact Elizabeth Grimm poster.
Oh, Quisi, what to do?...
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