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Usually, I’d have left long back. A honeymooning couple holding hands, whispering and giggling without a care in the world. A harassed young mother trying to feed, what looks like goop, to her bawling kid while her husband runs toward the smoking room for one last cigarette. An unkempt young man dressed in shockingly horrible ensemble playing the moonlight sonata on the piano. A swarm of beautiful air-hostesses with their perfectly coiffed hair and smiles walking towards the boarding gates.
I look at them and see a huge fireball in their immediate future.
This time, I decide to join them.
Written for the weekly Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff – Fields. Please find other entries here.
Published on June 19, 2019 01:12