The day came when we decided to leave for the airport. This decision was because I needed a break. I am a graduate of Oxford. My experience there led me to the fine man to father my two children. Lily, the oldest, and Lawson, the youngest, are kids of intellect, sincerity. Although they may have been rambunctious, they were still, without a doubt, lovable. We lived in London, England. I'd thought it was time to move somewhere that could be a decent place to raise them both, somewhere with great benefits, pay, and stability.

We decided that it would be best for our family to go on vacation; it seemed like one of the sanest things I've said in a while.

After a couple of days, we had arrived at the airport. We walked through the large glass doors.

Does my hair look okay? I asked my husband.

Honey, it looks fine. He reassured me.

We approached a desk that extended beyond the reach of the walls. The woman whose appearance didn't match those who typically work in airports was perceived to be ominous. Shivers ran down my spine and a wave of disgust fell over my body. I did my best to brush off her aura, but she looked like she meant business.

-E -Erm Ahem, excuse me? When is flight London for Florida fifty-four departing?

The woman sat there ignoring me staring blankly at her computer screen.

Hello? She shot up sharply with distinct tedium.

Give me two seconds.

...

It appears to be leaving in about five minutes. She spoke with a thick Slovenian accent.

Is your family ready for what's yet to come?

Uh, sure. I said with hesitation.

We walked over to the chairs and sat, I looked down at my watch which gleamed back four glowing numbers that read 12 o'clock.