14 Hours

Recycled air dances through my respiratory system

Stranger’s shoulders brush against mine

I keep my head forward

 

Every bump is a sure sign of death

Every announcement is my last

I ask the stewardess for gingerale

 

My carryon is tucked between my legs

Ready to grab and run

My headphones play no music

 

I drift off into a sickening slumber

Breathing shallow

My head pounds

 

I’ve had a full bladder since takeoff

Bathroom is off limits

Mind over matter

 

The window tells me it’s still daytime

Not for long

Sunset is fleeting

 

I don’t want to fly in the dark

The abyss

The stars taunt me

 

And this is only hour one.

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