The Airport Escape
It was a day like any other at the airport, and I was ready to leave. My bags were packed, my ticket in hand, and I had just reached the corridor to exit when I realized something was off. The only people around were airport workers, filing out in a hurried but almost robotic way. I stopped, confused, and then turned around, heading back to the waiting room. Inside, the room was dimly lit, with a haze of smoke filling the air. A small crowd of people were gathered, each puffing away on cigarettes. I moved to the nearest person, trying not to breathe in the thick smoke, and covered my mouth as I spoke. "What's going on?" I asked, trying to get some answers. "You need chicken," one person replied cryptically, eyes darting nervously. "To get out of here." Chicken? I blinked, unsure if I had heard correctly. "What do you mean? I can't just leave?" "They might not let you buy the chicken," he muttered, almost as if he was afraid to s