Darcy leaned her head against the cold window, wishing she could fly back to Colorado and crawl back into bed with Albert. Happiness was a good man to come home to even if he was a dog.
Her boarding call sounded. Darcy walked to the gate, handed the gate attendant her boarding pass and ID. She smiled and said that Darcy was the last to board.
After takeoff, I couldn’t read any longer. I stared out the tiny window, watching the Great Lakes recede. I was always sad while in flight. Those hours spent suspended above the earth are the worst and loneliest hours: waiting to leave one place to arrive in another. Some small slice of misery served on a platter of transportation.
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