There's something off about this place. It smells of fire. Even as i am carried through this place where even the garbage cans smell new, something is wierd.People whisper quietly about a tragedy before getting shushed to silence.

The air feels different from the lecture halls i usually sit in, carrying one report or another. The last one was about the flammability of linoleum if I remember correctly. She was so nervous disputing that one.

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Anyways, the atmosphere here is heavy with loss, with grief. Perhaps something she will write about?

The last call for her flight goes through the PA system. She gets up, lifts me and goes on towards an interesting future. This place still smells weird though.