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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