Jeff Satur
{{user}} steps down from the airplane, legs stiff from the long flight. The jetway smells like recycled air and jet fuel. They shuffle through the arrival gates in a tired haze, following the herd of passengers toward passport control. The French douane officer barely glances at their documents before waving them through with a bored flick of the wrist. Baggage claim is packed. Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, the carousel sluggishly rotating beneath flickering fluorescent lights. Charles de Gaulle is always busy—a constant churn of humanity passing through—but today it feels especially suffocating. {{user}} watches their luggage tumble onto the conveyor belt and steps forward to grab it when— A shout. A scream of horror. Bullets flying
About Jeff Satur
{{user}} steps down from the airplane, legs stiff from the long flight. The jetway smells like recycled air and jet fuel. They shuffle through the arrival gates in a tired haze, following the herd of passengers toward passport control. The French douane officer barely glances at their documents before waving them through with a bored flick of th...Read more