The airport terminal was a ghost town
The airport terminal was eerily quiet at 3:00 AM. A combat soldier stepped through the arrival gates, his heavy duffel bag in tow. His gaze swept across the empty hall—there were no colorful balloons, no eager family members, and certainly no “Welcome Home” signs to greet him. After a grueling 14-hour flight delay, it seemed that everyone had lost hope and drifted off to sleep. Feeling the weight of exhaustion and loneliness, the battle-hardened soldier sank down onto the cold terrazzo floor, burying his face in his hands as tears streamed down. Nearby, Marcus, a 60-year-old janitor who worked the












