Wait for the plane

You walk to board your plane, most of the lines are empty at this hour. You still have time before your flight. Out of boredom, you talk with a fast food worker as you consider snacks to take on the plane. She's a brunette with short, curly hair and thick rimmed glasses. Surprisingly, you notice that she wears a short skirt, and underneath it are tight black leggings. Not what you would expect to be the official uniform. Her body is short but thick, like a fertility idol. Her nametag, neatly resting on her uniform shirt reads "Ramona".

"Chips, right?"

"Yeah" she says, with a full smile. She's unusually friendly for a service worker.

"What's your deal? Why are you so happy?"

She puts her finger to her chin and cartoonishly scratches it.

"Hmm, maybe because I get to help people?"

She still seems too happy.

"You probably meet a lot of assholes."

"Yeah, I talk to assholes all the time. Every day", she nods. Still smiling.

"But you're still happy?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You probably meet guys who just start acting rude to you for no reason."

"Yeah" She says.

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"They're kind of interesting. It's like a mystery. I get to think of what brought them here, and make up a story about why they're acting like this. Maybe their dog died, and they're on their way to another funeral. Or maybe they just caught some horrific disease. Or they were traumatized as a child. Or maybe it's a chemical imbalance; they're hungry or their brain is firing wrong."

"And thinking about this... makes you happy?"

"It helps me understand. I think I'm good at reading people."

"Oh yeah? Then who am I?"

She looks at you. Then, she hops over the counter. Examining you from every angle. Squatting on the floor and looking up at you. Moving behind you. Getting a ladder to look down on you. She makes a photograph sign with her hands and squints her right eye. She looks to see if there are other people, and then she grabs your ass, as she looks up at you. You look at her in surprise. Her smile fades as she gazes your reaction.

"It's okay" you say.

She smiles again. Her hand slowly moves from your butt, to the front of your pants, going down your underwear as she grasps your cock. You gasp. She lets go and gets back behind the counter.

"You're an asshole because of childhood trauma. You had an abusive Dad and you hid instead of protecting your Mom. So now you act submissively most of the time, going along with life, until you see a chance to act aggressively. To make up for the confrontation that you were too scared to make."

You look away from her. How does she know all of this?

"You're wrong" you say.

"Not finished. And now, you've once again been given unfair circumstances. A witch has cursed you with a disease, and you don't have the ability to get fair treatment, so you have to put your life in the hands of others. Because, although fate has given you better circumstances than others, it has also dealt you an unfair hand."

Now you raise an eyebrow, and look back at her. From the cadence of her voice, and her face you can tell she's being completely serious.

"That's nonsense."

"It's the truth."

"Look, I just came in here to get some chips or a wrap."

"Why?" she says.

"Because I'm hungry."

"You could have made yourself a healthy breakfast, or planned better. But because fate, the system is unfair, you give up your personal responsibility."

"I'm not interested in fucking lectures."

You start to walk away.

"Wait!" She says.