4:00 A.M., December 23
Twenty-nine hours to eternity
Race wandered along the terminal, gazing into shops through long, straight bar barriers before he made his way to a glass wall. He stretched and watched a plane taxi to the hangar. This airport, this plane. For some reason he’d been drawn to this spot to celebrate his holiday.
He yawned and went to a nearby coffee shop, where he could sit with a mug of his favorite warm, sweet drink and watch the people who disembarked. Passengers filtered into the terminal. A family walked by—two women, each carrying a small, sleepy child.
As they passed Race, one adorable little girl watched him, then said to the woman carrying her, “Mommy, that man looks like Santa.”
Race winked at her. His beard was dark brown and curly, not white, but his face
