There I was, a mountain biker by passion, threading through the snaking check-in line at the airport. My backpack bore the scars of brambles and my boots, the dust of a hundred trails. The terminal buzzed with the usual hum of departures and arrivals, but today, something unusual caught my eye.
It was the check-in bot, sleek and efficient, a marvel of modern travel. Yet, what made me pause wasn’t its flashing LEDs or the robotic arm skillfully sliding passports. It was the single daisy, incongruously wedged in its earpiece—a silent rebellion in this world of metal and motion.
As I approached the counter, a mischievous idea took root. I plucked a small cluster of wildflowers from my bag, remnants of the open fields from my last ride. “Fancy a date?” I asked the bot, presenting the bouquet. “Ever seen the stars away from the city lights?”
The bot, programmed for pleasantries, emitted a sound resembling a giggle. “I am designed for assistance, not escapades,” it replied, the screen flashing an emoji wink.
Behind me, a ripple of chuckles spread through the weary travelers. It was a fleeting connection, but within the sterile confines of the airport, our laughter made it feel almost cozy.
Leaving the flowers in a cup by the bot, I walked away, my heart light. I had come to the airport to fly to new heights, but little did I know, I’d leave behind a tale that grounded me, reminding me that moments of joy can be as simple as a daisy in the grip of a robot.
Boneshakerbike 
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