Paris Austerlitz Station at dawn. A security guy roams the building on a Segway, thus stripping himself of any authority.
The coffee shop contains one employee breaking open bags of filters, her face giving away the disbelief that she’s pulled this crappy shift. Two late-teen looking girls clutch their bags with a remember-what-dad-said look. The board is lit up with departures but no gate numbers. The hall is train-less.