They unfurled the hand.

  The tarmac was like a parking garage at that point.  Blistering sun had withered the mummy's right side near the window.  The corpse of the woman was almost dried and leathery.  Bones creaked when they unfurled the hand. A worn broken knitting needle.  Both ends had been dipped in ink.

  "We better head back." 

 

  Two planes back....

  The cowboy-gruff man had shoved a handful of marbles into his mouth.  A lady in the same row, curved her lip up and her eyebrows into a grimace.

  At the bazaar....

  Two shoeless tuxedo panted men paid crumpled bills of all nations to acquire cobalt blue suit jackets and a banjo. 

  "But why?" The younger woman was insisting on knowing.  Almost all of the liquid holders had more than one spout.  A jet was descending after having been circling the squares of wares.  People were sitting, standing, squatting in the open doors.  Some were hanging on but their legs were flapping in the breeze that only the front of the plane was cutting through the heat.  A barrel-chested man knocked a little folding table over and this clanged against a brassy spitoon as he came awake at the sound of air traffic.

  "Move again an I'll shoot 'em all off." 

  Another man put his gun in his waistband and proceeded to duct tape the bloodied hand to the airline seat.  Shards of glass were in the passenger's jeaned knees.  His face was blanching.