I can see the man in the chair look up at her and back down towards his book as he shrugs it off as if this happens to him all the time. But what are you going to say? This stuartess though, she has the most atrocious up-do I’ve ever seen in a color that matches her spray on tan. I’m almost impressed by it.
I think about my girlfriend and try not to realize how long it will be until I get to see her beautiful self again. How long it will be until I get to hold her again.
The woman finished her soduko, she didn't notice she had two fours in the same column, but I can tell she's proud of her accomplishment, so I don't mind.
I look out the window and try not to cry on a plane full of people and think of what I’m going to do with my life now. All I see is my reflection on the small window. That and the moon reflected on the wing in three places. I wonder what it would be like to have three moons. Too bright to sleep well I think.
I can barely hear the sounds of the engines anymore; instead it's become white noise that just powers my thoughts.
I’m starting to get hungry so I take out some peach-o's I brought along. I treat planes like movies. Both long durations of time where eating mindlessly on sugar somehow makes it more enjoyable. After two or three, the o's make my spit foamy and I wish the stuartess with her atrocious hair would hand over my drink clenched in her fake nail adorned hands. She’s close so I wait patiently and smile politely as she nears. Maybe she'll put less ice in it. No, they're already poured, no matter how much I smile at her, I still get ice.
I hate ice. It makes the drink too cold and even when I’m ridiculously thirsty, I can only sip. That and I always chew the ice. I heard that's damaging so with each gnaw, I fear the pops and crunches are really my teeth chipping. But I always chew it anyway. Every time. Maybe it will slip with a single crunch and lodge itself in the back of my throat and not melt fast enough for me to swallow. I don't see that happening.
The flashes of the wings make me think someone is taking pictures from outside. I instinctively smile.
I think about my girlfriend and try not to realize how long it will be until I get to see her beautiful self again. How long it will be until I get to hold her again.
The woman finished her soduko, she didn't notice she had two fours in the same column, but I can tell she's proud of her accomplishment, so I don't mind.
I look out the window and try not to cry on a plane full of people and think of what I’m going to do with my life now. All I see is my reflection on the small window. That and the moon reflected on the wing in three places. I wonder what it would be like to have three moons. Too bright to sleep well I think.
I can barely hear the sounds of the engines anymore; instead it's become white noise that just powers my thoughts.
I’m starting to get hungry so I take out some peach-o's I brought along. I treat planes like movies. Both long durations of time where eating mindlessly on sugar somehow makes it more enjoyable. After two or three, the o's make my spit foamy and I wish the stuartess with her atrocious hair would hand over my drink clenched in her fake nail adorned hands. She’s close so I wait patiently and smile politely as she nears. Maybe she'll put less ice in it. No, they're already poured, no matter how much I smile at her, I still get ice.
I hate ice. It makes the drink too cold and even when I’m ridiculously thirsty, I can only sip. That and I always chew the ice. I heard that's damaging so with each gnaw, I fear the pops and crunches are really my teeth chipping. But I always chew it anyway. Every time. Maybe it will slip with a single crunch and lodge itself in the back of my throat and not melt fast enough for me to swallow. I don't see that happening.
The flashes of the wings make me think someone is taking pictures from outside. I instinctively smile.
