(no subject)

The hollow eyes of the terminal stared back at Doss. He pounded his hand against the Plexiglas in frustration. "Fuck!" he swore. How could it not be here? The terminal was always here. The terminal was mother/father/god. The terminal was where he'd been going to get his payoff. It had promised. And all knew that what the terminal promised it delivered. But it stared at him from empty eyes, as if it had never shown him the beautiful woman who wanted to hire him to do a job...the beautiful woman whose touch he'd felt when he was within the terminal's umbrella. He'd felt her smooth skin and the electric tingle as she ran her fingers along the back of his neck, as her hair brushed his arm. She'd promised. Smooth and ready to groove, it was supposed to be. And the terminal was supposed to keep people from lying. That was why it existed. But it wasn't here, so it hadn't done its job.