Thomas Flair: encouragement
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Byrant stood hunched over a massive key board, staring intently at a screen.
“Come on,” he whispered silently to himself.
The five of us remained silent as the young thirteen-year-old battled with the technology.
I looked out over the airport watching the sun barely peak over the horizon.
We had stayed up all night.
And we were now on day three.
Byrant’s hands flew over the desk, hitting keys in a language none of us could understand. His eyes flickered back and forth from screen to screen with his head randomly jerking so he could see under the desk.
Suddenly, a humming noise filled the otherwise silent room. The screens flickered to life, displaying symbols and maps.
The others rushed forward to congratulate Byrant.
They were all too busy to notice the blue bar that hazily glowed above his head, disappear a moment later.
ns 15.158.61.39da2
